


Last Crusade

by aphreal, SignCherie



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/SignCherie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of Grey Wardens meet up in the Deep Roads on Calling and decide to have one last adventure</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Stand

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt on the DA kinkmeme, and I am eternally grateful to the anonymous prompter for putting this plot-bunny in my head. 
> 
> Thanks are also due to signcherie for letting me borrow her Anders, Bethany, and Autumn Hawke.

_Archers are not meant to be solo fighters_ , Nathaniel thought as he drew his daggers across the throat of another Hurlock. Spinning, he sliced open the belly of one that had tried to take advantage of his distraction. Seeing the cavern was clear, he stopped to catch his breath, flicking the foul, dark blood from his blades. 

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d slipped away from Vigil’s Keep, several days at least; it was hard to keep track of time in the Deep Roads. The Vigil was full of young recruits who didn’t need to see the Warden Commander falling apart. So at the first sign of his Calling, he’d left instructions for his second and vanished in the night, headed for the nearest entrance to the Deep Roads. 

He knew he’d have some time before the Calling overwhelmed him, and he planned to make it count. He’d been seeking out small groups of Darkspawn that he could take on single-handedly and avoiding areas that felt overrun with the beasts. So far, it had been working well, and he had a sense of satisfaction that he was going to take a lot of tainted evil down with him. 

Once he felt ready to press on, Nathaniel extended his Warden senses, searching for another group that felt manageable. Finding something promising, he set off again. As he approached, moving silently through the dark, he was surprised to hear the sounds of combat echoing down the tunnel. Curious, he picked up his pace. 

As he drew closer, he began to make out voices echoing over the din. A familiar cry of, “Destructive forces of nature coming right up!” brought a grin to his face. It was closely followed by, “Suck on a fireball!” But the voice that delivered that line was unfamiliar and decidedly female. He broke into a run, wanting to arrive in time if his help was needed. 

When the tunnel opened into a larger room, Nathaniel was not terribly surprised to see it filled with Darkspawn, most of them looking decidedly worse for wear. The air crackled with magical energies, lightning and shards of ice flying everywhere. At the center of the maelstrom, a pair of mages stood back to back, one tall and sandy-haired, the other dark-haired and more delicate. Their staves whirled in intricate patterns as they pummeled the Darkspawn with spell after spell, laughing and yelling ridiculous battle cries. 

Reluctant to get into range of the energies being flung around the room, Nathaniel stayed on the edges of the melee, striking from the shadows and cutting down any Darkspawn that tried to flee or regroup. 

The combat was over quickly. Sheathing his blades, Nathaniel sauntered through the carnage towards the mages. “I’m sure they have a thorough appreciation for why mages are feared,” he commented with a grin. “Not much opportunity to do anything about it, though.” 

They both whirled at the sound of his voice. The woman looked wary, but Anders’s face broke into a wide grin. “Nate! Come to join the party?” He turned to his companion and gestured introductions. “Beth, this is Nathaniel Howe, assassin and son of a traitor, but we try not to hold that against him. Nate, Bethany Hawke, sister to the Champion of Kirkwall.” 

The woman, Bethany, relaxed once she determined Nathaniel was a friend. She greeted him politely, and the three moved to continue the conversation somewhere less open. 

“How’s Justice?” Nathaniel asked Anders, once they had found a small alcove off a side passage. 

Anders rubbed at the back of his neck wearily. “Quiet,” he admitted. “He hasn’t really done much since… our big dramatic statement in Kirkwall. I think he knew it wasn’t really right but didn’t have any better ideas and had to do something. He was hoping Hawke would martyr us because he didn’t want to live with the guilt. When she refused, he kind of went dormant.” The mage shrugged awkwardly, struggling with explaining motives that were his yet not. 

At the mention of Hawke, Nathaniel’s eyes flicked to Bethany, who held up her hands defensively. “Not me, my sister.” 

“What are you doing here, Nate?” Anders asked, clearly trying to change the subject. 

Nathaniel decided to take the bait. “Me? I’ve been living in Ferelden for the past three decades. What are _you_ doing here?”

“My idea,” Bethany spoke up. “I didn’t want to go on my Calling alone. When I started to feel it, I went to my sister to find Anders. He agreed to come with me because it was time.”

“We’re ready to be done, to rest,” Anders nodded. Nathaniel wasn’t sure if that plural was meant to include Bethany, but he suspected not. “Beth’s a Ferelden refugee, too, so we decided to come home.” 

“I’m glad for the company,” Nathaniel said with a fierce grin. “Now if only we had some front line support.”

“You’re complaining to me?” Anders griped, holding up his staff pointedly. “Mages need people in metal to hide behind.” 

 

A while later, probably hours but possibly a day or two, the three of them were making their way towards another knot of Darkspawn when they heard a howling cacophony echoing down the passageway towards them. 

Bethany looked apprehensive. “I’ve never heard a Darkspawn sound anything like that,” she whispered. 

“That’s not a Darkspawn,” Nathaniel said with a tight smile. 

Anders nodded agreement. “I think we’ve found that front line support Nate was hoping for.” 

The sounds died away as they approached. As expected, when they reached the room it contained a red-bearded dwarf with a gory axe standing over a pile of mangled Genlocks. He took a swig from the flask at his belt and greeted them with a roar. “What took you so long?”

 

The addition of Oghren to their party made them significantly more deadly. Nathaniel was able to rely on his bow when circumstances gave him room, and Bethany and Anders could unleash even more effective devastation when they were less concerned with holding the Darkspawn back. Nathaniel was surprised to discover he was enjoying himself. 

A few days later, Nathaniel was scouting ahead of the others, trying to find a safe route to keep picking off stragglers from a large group of Darkspawn that was laired nearby. Hearing the clash of steel, he nocked an arrow to his bow and crept to where he could get a vantage point on the fight. There were no words coming from the fray, and he wondered if he’d stumbled onto another dispute among darkspawn factions. 

Instead, what met his eyes was one of the most beautiful lethal dances he’d ever seen. Two figures in plate mail, complete with full helmets, were hacking down Hurlocks with elegant efficiency. One bore a sword and shield, both of which appeared to serve as deadly weapons, and the other swung a greatsword through fluid arcs that barely slowed when they intersected Darkspawn flesh. They moved in perfect harmony with no words exchanged, and Nathaniel was captivated by the grace of it all for a moment before he remembered to start putting arrows through some of their targets. 

His assistance didn’t go unnoticed, but they waited until the last Hurlock fell to acknowledge him. At that point, the warrior with the greatsword sheathed her blade and pulled off her helmet, shaking out her hair as she walked across the killing field towards him. 

Nathaniel smiled when he saw her. Her golden hair was intermixed with silver, and time had worn its lines onto her face, but her eyes were still those of the Cousland girl he’d played with when he was a boy. 

“Nate, it’s good to see you,” she greeted him warmly with a peck on the cheek. 

“Your majesty,” he replied with a formal nod that made her chuckle. 

“Not anymore,” her companion called gleefully, pulling off his helmet to reveal a face familiar from every coin minted in Ferelden in the past thirty years. “We abdicated!” Alistair was grinning widely, as if there was nowhere he’d rather be than the Deep Roads surrounded by dismembered Darkspawn. Of course, given how reluctant he’d been to take the throne in the first place, perhaps he thought this was preferable. 

“I’m glad you found us,” the queen said. “You shouldn’t be alone down here.”

“I’m not,” Nathaniel replied with a grin, beckoning for them to follow him back to rejoin the others. Maybe Alistair had the right idea: this was the most fun he’d had in years. 

 

Since they’d all lost sense of time in the Deep Roads, the group agreed to declare it night and make camp to get acquainted – or re-acquainted – with the new additions. Bethany quickly got a fire started and began assembling a meal from supplies in various people’s packs and a deepstalker Anders had killed earlier. Deepstalkers weren’t the most tender meat Nathaniel had ever eaten, but they were far better than the alternatives down here. 

As everyone settled in around the fire, swapping stories and making jokes, Nathaniel sought out his childhood friend. She was seated off to the side, watching and smiling at the festival atmosphere that was developing. Studying her face in the firelight, Nathaniel confirmed his impressions and approached her. 

“Not to give offense, but you look quite nice,” he said quietly. 

She laughed and shook her head. “Only you could feel the need to apologize for a compliment.”

He frowned. “I meant that you don’t look like the rest of us.” He gestured pointedly at the other faces around the fire, the slight grey tinge to the skin, eye sockets beginning to grow sunken. 

“I’m not being Called,” she admitted softly. “Maybe it’s because I killed the Archdemon; we don’t know of anyone else who’s survived that, after all. Or maybe it’s just not my time yet.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” Sensing Nate’s unvoiced question, her gaze sought out her husband, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he plied Anders and Oghren for stories of her brief tenure as Warden Commander. “I wasn’t letting him go without me.” 

Nathaniel nodded understanding and sat with her silently, watching their companions with a growing sense of warmth. 

A few minutes later, Alistair stood up, drawing attention to himself. “I recognize that face,” his wife murmured with a smirk. “That’s his speech-making face. This should be good.”

“Wardens, I am honored to call you all my brothers,” he began in a ringing tone, adding a less definite, “and, um, sisters,” with a glance at Bethany. Nathaniel snorted amusement, and Alexia backhanded him lightly with a metal gauntlet to the chest that he felt even through his padded leathers. 

“The Calling is one of our finest traditions, and our last. In death, sacrifice,” Alistair continued. He paused to let his solemn words sink in. “But no one said we can’t take a lot of them down with us. There are enough Wardens gathered here to inflict some serious injury. No more skulking around, picking off stragglers. We’ve got the strength to hit some high value targets now.” 

“Emissaries,” Bethany suggested. 

“Breweries!” Oghren offered, raising his flask. “What? There’s got to be something to drink down here.” 

“Broodmothers,” Nathaniel said flatly. “Cut off their supply lines.” 

“Exactly,” Alistair agreed with a wolfish grin. “The only challenge is finding them.” 

The rest of the “night” was spent gathered around the fire making plans. Establishing who had the best ability to sense Darkspawn, sharing tactics and skills honed over years of practice, developing a plan of attack. As the excitement spread, the sense of purpose, it was easy to forget why they’d all come down here, to imagine this was another grand adventure to save Thedas from encroaching evil. And maybe, if their plans worked out, it would be. 

Looking around the fire, Nathaniel couldn’t help but grin. Just like old times.


	2. Unexpectedly Cute Baby Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a silly drabble written for a Tuesday Prompt Fest on the lj Dragon Age community that I'm slotting into this series where it would fit chronologically.

Nathaniel heard a quiet, high-pitched growling as he crouched to pull his arrow from the deepstalker corpse, followed by a faint tugging on his boot. 

Suddenly, Bethany was there, bending down to coo at the small thing attempting to menace him. "Oh, look, that one had cubs... kits... What do you call baby lizards?" 

"Snacks," Oghren said with a grin. 

Bethany looked so stricken that Alexia stepped in. "No one will be eating the baby deepstalker." 

"Yes, Commander," Oghren muttered sulkily. Nathaniel and Alexia gave him nearly matching expectant looks, and he corrected himself. "Your Majesty." 

"Why does no one remember we abdicated?" Alistair said with a sigh. 

His wife smirked at him before crouching down to detach the tiny lizard worrying at Nathaniel's ankle. It growled fiercely at her and snarled a tiny squeak that made Bethany giggle. 

Alexia smiled and passed the squirming bundle over to Bethany's outstretched hands. "You can keep it on one condition: Anders doesn't get to pick the name."


	3. Last Wish

The mass Calling ended up being even more effective than any of them could have predicted. With the combined skills and experience available, they were able to plan and carry out brutally efficient strikes on Darkspawn nests, deliberately seeking out and taking down Broodmothers to hamper the creatures’ ability to repopulate. At first, it was just like the grand adventure they had sketched out around that initial campfire. But eventually, the reality of the situation began to set in. 

 

Having been a Warden the longest, Alistair was the first to begin succumbing to the taint. Alexia watched as his skin lost its color and his eyes dulled. He twitched in his sleep almost continually and frequently seemed distracted when awake, listening to things she couldn’t hear. She knew they were about out of time but said nothing; it had to be his decision. 

One night, holding her tight against his chest under their blankets, he broached the subject. “It’s getting bad, Lexia,” he admitted. “I worry that I’m going to forget who I am. Forget who you are.”

“Never happen,” she responded with a soft kiss. “Some things you can’t forget.” Turning serious, she raised herself on one elbow to look him in the eyes, wanting to make sure he believed her. “When you’re ready, so am I.” 

He nodded and gathered her back into his arms. Nothing more was said; nothing more needed to be said. 

 

When they broke camp and were moving back through the tunnels, Alexia caught Nathaniel, pulling him aside before he could go off scouting. “I know you can see his time’s coming,” she said with no preamble or context. “You know why I’m here. When it’s time, don’t try to stop me.” 

Dark eyes serious, he nodded and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll miss you,” he murmured into her hair. 

Nate had never been the most tactile person, so Alexia was caught off guard but returned the embrace gladly. “You’ve been a good friend. Thank you.” 

 

A day or two later, when they ran into heavier resistance than expected, Alistair caught Alexia’s eye, and she knew it was time. Side by side, they threw themselves into the center of the melee with almost savage glee. They tore through Genlocks with abandon, recklessly carving a path to the Emissaries that were the real threat. Alexia heard herself laughing mockingly and taunting a Darkspawn mage as she dodged its spells and brought her blade around to cleave off its arm. Ignoring its shrieks, she turned to find the next Emissary, heedless of the lesser Darkspawn chopping at her back and sides. She cut down the ones that got in her way without a thought, focusing on her chosen target. 

Once the spell-casters were down, the other Wardens were able to make short work of the rest of the Darkspawn. As the sounds of chaos subsided, Alexia dropped to her knees, feeling dizzy from blood loss now that the surge of adrenalin was wearing off. She ached all over from dozens of small wounds that she’d scarcely noticed receiving, and there was a stabbing pain in her side that she suspected was worse than she wanted to contemplate. Alistair had collapsed nearby, his wounds at least equal to hers. She crawled closer to him, glancing around and noting with pride that everyone else was still up, the worst of their hurts being easily tended by Anders. 

Dismissing them as irrelevant now, she looked back at Alistair. “We did it, love,” she whispered. He sighed, and the concern left his eyes as he reached for her hand. 

She slumped to the ground next to him. Her arms felt weak, and it took too much effort to support her body now that there was no need. She saw as much as heard his whispered, “I love you.” 

Squeezing his hand, she responded. “I love you. Always.” He looked peaceful, and she was content. She might have wanted more time, but she wouldn’t trade a second of what they’d had. Alexia slipped into the darkness with a gentle smile on her lips. 

 

She’s drifting, not quite aware, and there are voices, words. Maybe she should recognize them, but they have no meaning, no connection to her now. 

“She won’t thank you for this.” That voice is deep, stern, but neutral in tone, carefully bereft of judgment or emotion. 

“I’m not doing it for her.” Slightly higher, more intense. There’s pain under that placid surface, she thinks. She might wonder why, but it has nothing to do with her, and she drifts back into the darkness. 

 

Alexia opens her eyes groggily. She feels something soft under her head, sees a stone ceiling above her, and aches all over. Her momentary disorientation is washed away by a surge of frantic emotion as everything rushes back. Pulling herself to a sitting position, she looks around for Nate. “We had a deal,” she accuses him brokenly. 

He spreads his hands, face blank but eyes sad. “Not my doing, Lex.” 

Moving slowly, wearily, Anders comes to kneel beside her pallet. “I had a different deal,” he says simply. “Beth must have told him. He came to me. Said he knew I’d stopped my wife from coming to die with me. He begged me, if I loved her, to do the same for him.” 

His words take a moment to sink in, and when they do, Alexia begins sobbing helplessly, feeling lost. She didn’t expect to be here, has no plan for what to do next. 

Gently, Anders gathers her in to rest her head on his shoulder, soaking his robes with her tears. “I’m sorry he’s gone,” he tells her softly. “But I can’t regret granting his last request.”


	4. Last Call

Nathaniel was chuckling when he returned from exploring a section of the abandoned dwarven thaig they’d come across on their way towards a major Darkspawn nest. “You’ll never guess what I found,” he said as he approached Anders. 

“More bronto skeletons? A golem? Something better to eat than deepstalkers?” Anders asked hopefully. “Sigrun? Everyone else is down here.” The surroundings brought a memory to the surface, and he added sternly, “If it’s red and glowing, we’re leaving right now.” 

Nate shook his head. “It’s Oghren’s lucky day. Come see.” 

Gathering the others, he led the way through narrow stone hallways to a small storeroom filled with kegs. Oghren’s eyes got misty at the sight, and he actually dropped his axe in his rush to clear the dust and debris so he could read the faded markings stamped into the casks. Unable to make anything from them, he resorted to the simple expedient of broaching one and trying it. 

“Is that really a good idea?” Bethany asked, watching with the horrified expression common to people seeing Oghren really drink for the first time. 

“Whatever it is, he’s had worse,” Anders reassured her with a shrug. 

Anders never did find out exactly what was in the kegs, but Oghren pronounced it alcoholic and thus acceptable. No one else was inclined to sample it to offer a second opinion. 

When the group had rested and scoured the ruins for anything else useful, Alexia declared it time to move on. Anders didn’t think she’d forgiven him yet for giving her life back, but she’d accepted it and thrown herself into their mission with an almost inhuman zeal. She stepped into Alistair’s leadership role without question or comment, although she often deferred to Nate’s tactical knowledge and innate talent for spatial mapping. 

As they were rolling up blankets and preparing to head back into the passages, Oghren surprised them all with a firm declaration that he wasn’t going, preferring to stay in the thaig. “The Stone above my head, plenty to drink, plenty to kill. What could be better?” 

Bethany started to protest, but Nate drew her aside and said quietly, “We have to come back through here after we deal with the nest. He’ll have drunk the stash by then and be ready to leave.” 

Anders frowned a little at that optimistic take on Oghren’s chances here alone, but he couldn’t dispute the dwarf’s right to make his own decision. He gestured for Beth and Nate to follow Alexia and hung back, digging through his bag. He pulled out a few of his closely-hoarded stash of healing potions. “At least keep these.” 

Oghren shook his head stubbornly. “Only medicine I need’s right here,” he stated, lovingly patting one of the casks. 

“We’ll come back,” Anders said, putting the vials away. 

“I’ll be here,” Oghren responded cheerily, settling in with a tankard in one hand and a whetstone in the other. “Nowhere better.”

 

It took several days, or what passed for days in the Deep Roads, but they managed to locate the Darkspawn nest right where Nate predicted it would be. Anders wasn’t sure if he should be glad or concerned about the affinity the archer was developing for Darkspawn behavior and organization. It was awfully useful, but he wasn’t sure what it said about Nate’s mental state. Not that he was really one to talk in that regard. 

Exterminating the nest was harder without Oghren, but not as much as he’d expected. Alexia had become more savage since they’d lost Alistair. Not quite berserker quality, but she filled in the gap left by Oghren’s missing axe pretty effectively. Bethany had been amazingly devastating; she kept surprising him. Somehow, he persisted in thinking of her as Autumn’s little sister that they’d taken into the Deep Roads to protect from Templars. (And what did that say about Kirkwall that the Deep Roads had seemed like the safer option?) Objectively, he knew that over a quarter-age had passed, but he still expected Beth to be the sweet girl Autumn had constantly worried about taking care of. So it always came as a shock when she started laying into Darkspawn with some of the most powerful elemental magic he’d ever witnessed. Little Bethany had grown up into a strong, capable Warden, and Anders wished he could take credit for more than inspiring her to creative battle cries. 

Despite their success against the Broodmother and her vile offspring, Anders could see Nate and Alexia both starting mental calculations about the tactical adjustments they’d need to make as the group inevitably got smaller. That was one of the advantages of not being a natural leader; Anders was very used to that sort of thing being someone else’s problem. Worrying about big-picture stuff had been Alexia’s job when he was at Vigil’s Keep, and after that there had been Autumn. 

Andraste’s painted toenails, he couldn’t think about Autumn right now. Couldn’t wonder if she was all right, if she’d forgiven him yet for leaving. He’d held off his Calling as long as he could, and that had been a while. If anyone had practice tuning out annoying mental voices, it was Anders. But when Bethany had shown up, asking for company, he’d known it was time to let go. He hadn't wanted to leave Autumn, but it would be even worse to take her down with him. He’d warned her years ago that he would only break her heart, could never give her the life she deserved. She’d chosen to take her chances with him, and he’d done everything possible to minimize the damage he inflicted on her. He wasn’t sure that he’d always succeeded, but they’d been happy together. Leaving her behind was the last thing he could do to protect her. He could only hope she’d eventually understand and accept his choice. 

 

They spent a few days mopping up remnants of the nest that had scattered throughout the nearby tunnels before making their way back to the abandoned thaig where they’d left Oghren. As they approached, it was clear that he hadn’t been idle while they were gone. Even Nate, who had the longest range Warden sense of the group, couldn’t detect any Darkspawn in the area. 

When they emerged from the tunnels and got a look at the thaig proper, Bethany’s jaw dropped and Anders could only mutter, “Love what he’s done with the place.” The ground was was carpeted in Darkspawn corpses, very few of which had all of their limbs attached. 

Nate began nudging body parts aside as he tried to reconstruct events from the mess, possibly also subtly looking for Oghren’s body among his kills. Alexia, who was best at sensing other Wardens, suddenly darted down the passage that led to Oghren’s storeroom. Moments later, her voice echoed back into the main room, ringing with authority. “Anders, get in here. Now!” 

He was running almost before he was aware of her words, the others following close behind. If she was calling for the healer, then Oghren might still be alive in there. The hallway was littered with bodies, although less densely than the main cavern. He’d probably used this as a fallback position. Anders leapt over Hurlock torsos and Genlock legs and unspecified bits of rotting meat he didn’t even try to identify in his headlong rush. 

When Anders reached the storeroom, Alexia quickly moved out of the way to give him access to Oghren. The dwarf was sitting propped up between a pair of kegs, conscious but looking dazed. His beard was matted with blood, and his armor was dented and scratched all over. Anders knelt down to begin assessing his injuries. He could tell from the sheen of sweat on Oghren’s cheeks that the dwarf was feverish, and his skin felt far too warm for someone who had lost so much blood. Anders began peeling back the makeshift bandages that were pressed against, and frequently into, the bloody wounds, looking for the source of infection. 

“Andraste’s flaming knickers, Oghren, what did you make these out of?” he asked, gagging at the stench. Looking again at the ragged cloth, similar to that worn by some of the Darkspawn littering the room, Anders shuddered. “Maybe don’t answer that. Full marks for resourcefulness, but eww…” As he peeled back the bandages, he discovered some of the deeper and older wounds were packed with a gory mess. Oghren groaned and winced as he gingerly eased the clotted masses out, grousing as he worked. “What is this stuff? Moss, more resourceful and disgusting cloth… is that a mushroom?” 

“Some of those things are good for healing,” Oghren grunted defensively. 

“Not these, not like this.” He pulled out another mushroom. “For the bride’s sake, Oghren, this is a blightcap! You’re a bloody dwarf. You lived underground your entire life until Alexia dragged you out. How do you not know the difference between blightcaps and healworts? They look nothing alike!” 

Oghren grunted again as Anders worked loose a particularly stubbornly clotted piece of moss. “Hey, Commander?” 

“Yes?” Nate and Alexia responded in unison. 

“Old habits,” she muttered, flashing Nate an apologetic grin before turning to Oghren. “Which of us did you want?”

Anders had a feeling he was the only one who caught the look that flickered over Nate’s face in the wake of Alexia’s grin. He’d always suspected there was a story there, but Nate had never said anything, so Anders had never pressed. As fond as he was of good gossip, there should be limits, and anything that was likely to get an assassin angry at him was definitely beyond Anders’s. 

While Anders speculated, Oghren had been asking the surfacers if _they_ were familiar with all the “plants and whatnot” where they were from. 

“Most of the ones that grow in the north, near Highever, certainly,” Alexia responded thoughtfully. 

“Just the useful ones,” Nate said with a casual shrug. 

Having failed to make his point, Oghren went back to wincing and growling at Anders as he tried to undo the dwarf’s attempts at battlefield first aid. Anders was no longer trying to narrow down a source of infection; he was just hoping he didn’t miss any. “You couldn’t have poured any of your drink into these?” he asked, making conversation to keep his patient distracted. “No matter what else is in it – another thing I don’t actually want to know, by the way – the alcohol would be some help in cleaning wounds.” 

“Waste of good alcohol,” Oghren responded with a snort. “Not enough of it down here to spare any.” 

Anders shook his head in bewilderment. “You know what, Oghren? You are totally insane.” He thought for a moment about the piles of Darkspawn corpses filling the thaig and added, “But probably in a good, if kind of scary, way.” 

Once he was sure he’d gotten all of the foreign substances (Maker, was that a tooth?) out of Oghren’s wounds, Anders had begun pumping healing energy into the dwarf. He started by bringing down the fever and clearing out the bulk of the infection, then sealing up the worst of the gaping injuries. After that, he used what energy he had left to stop all of the lesser gashes from oozing and replenish some of the dwarf’s lost blood. Gasping and drained, he sat back onto his heels. “He should be all right for now,” he announced, weary but satisfied. “It’ll take a few days to get him back into shape, but this is as nice a place as any to stay for a while. Relatively speaking, given our options.” 

 

As predicted, Anders spent the next several days patching Oghren up and helping him return to fighting condition. Not for the first time, he was impressed at the berserker’s fortitude. He took Warden stamina to a whole new level, surviving something like this with nothing more than a handful of new additions to his collection of impressive scars. 

Nate and Alexia spent the time patrolling the nearby tunnels in search of any survivors or stragglers from the nest they’d eradicated, while Bethany assisted Anders and kept him company. It was good to have the time to catch up with her, fill in some of the gaps in what she’d been doing for the past two decades. 

Oghren maintained his stubborn intention to stay in the thaig once he was recovered, but Anders doubted that resolve would outlast the booze, and the number of full kegs was steadily decreasing. Apparently Oghren had been quite sincere about his belief in the healing properties of whatever was in those casks, and while Anders would have normally discouraged a patient from drinking so much, he figured he had about as much chance of convincing Oghren to stop breathing. 

By the time Anders declared Oghren well enough to travel, the last keg had been tapped. Anders deflected Bethany’s suggestion that the timing wasn’t precisely coincidental and ignored Nate’s raised eyebrow of skepticism. Alexia smirked and said it was nice to see him manipulating someone other than her. Anders admitted nothing. 

When they began breaking camp, though, Oghren was packing up alongside the rest of them, rigging a harness to carry his last precious cask on his back. It took a considerable amount of work, and some assistance from Alexia, to devise a system that didn’t interfere with drawing his axe. But judging by the smug, satisfied look on his face as they set out, he clearly thought the result was worth it. 

As they put the thaig behind them in search of the next likely lair, Anders noticed that Oghren still had his flask at his belt. The stopper was securely tied on, and when he wanted a drink he asked someone to help him draw it from the keg on his back. Bethany eventually gave in to curiosity and asked him about the flask. 

Oghren patted it lovingly as he answered. “Saving this for later. For the right moment.” 

Now that he was looking at Oghren for more than traces of lingering infection, Anders could see that the dwarf’s beard looked more brittle than it used to, that some of his new scars looked more grey than silver-pale. 

Before Anders could begin to get maudlin, though, Oghren grinned, teeth bright in that forest of beard that was only getting more unruly the longer they spent in the Deep Roads. “This’ll have to tide me over till I find another stash. Gotta be more down here. These tunnels were built by dwarves, and we understand what’s important. Enough talking. Let’s go! More darkspawn and more booze!”


	5. Last Sunrise

When they woke one morning to find Oghren gone, Anders wasn’t really surprised. He’d known it was coming, sooner or later. He said nothing, just started breaking camp. Nate and Alexia followed suit; only Bethany questioned. “Shouldn’t we wait for Oghren to come back?” she asked hesitantly. 

“He’s not coming,” Anders said gently. 

“How can you be sure? All of his things are still here,” she pointed out. Anders was pretty sure she knew she was denying the facts, but he didn’t want to be the one to crush what little optimism existed in the Deep Roads. That task fell, as usual, to Nate. 

“Not all,” the archer said flatly. “There are a couple missing.” 

“His axe and his flask,” Alexia added. 

“Exactly,” Nate agreed, raising an eyebrow at her. She hadn’t so much as glanced at Oghren’s pile of bedding and packs since she got up. 

“When it’s time to die, you know exactly what you need,” she explained in a leaden tone, raising her hand to the ring she’d worn on a chain around her neck since they burned her husband’s body. 

Nate moved towards her, but she shook her head sharply and turned away. “I’m fine,” she said, starting to don her armor. Anders didn’t even think of challenging the obvious lie; Nate was the only one who could get through to her now, and not always him. 

Nothing more was said about Oghren. Bethany looked uncomfortable watching Nate sort through the dwarf’s belongings for things that might be of use to the rest of the group and even more disturbed when he left the rest of the items where they laid. Without a backward glance, Nate led them into the tunnels towards the next nest. 

 

Anders had lost count of how many broodmothers they’d killed, how many lairs they’d emptied. He couldn’t even guess how long they’d been on this grand quest, exterminating Darkspawn as their own numbers gradually dwindled. He had no sense of time when cut off from the world, something he’d learned to accept years ago during his confinements in the Circle. Down here, without light or weather, he could only judge the passage of time by the length of Alexia’s hair and the pallor that crept across everyone else. Going by those markers, it had probably been months since he’d seen the sun. He was fairly certain Alexia wouldn’t have been able to neatly tuck her hair into her helmet anymore, even if she hadn’t left it behind long ago. 

As the time passed, Anders found himself spending most of his down-time with Bethany. She said she wanted to get to know Anders better because he was family, and she’d given up her family for too long to do her duty as a Warden. Anders wasn’t sure what he had to offer her at this point, but she was his only link to Autumn, and he couldn’t turn that away. 

Sitting by the fire after yet another meal of roasted deepstalker, Bethany asked a question that had clearly been on her mind for some time. “You told Nathaniel that Justice wanted Sister to martyr you. How could you ask that of her?”

Anders sighed. He’d come to reluctant terms with that part of his life years ago, but it had never become comfortable. “How could I ask anyone else?” he responded. “It was like Aveline and Wesley.” At her puzzled frown, he tried to find words to explain. “When you’re so far gone, so lost, and you can never go back to being the person you were, there has to be someone who loves you enough to give you mercy. I couldn’t live with what we’d done, and I thought Autumn knew me well enough to understand that.” 

Bethany was silent, absorbed in his answer, so he continued, feeling a wistful smile come to his face at the memory. “It turned out that she knew me even better and refused. She told me I was a coward and an idiot, but she loved me and I was going to fix it instead of running away.” He grinned at Bethany. “I’m paraphrasing, you understand. That’s not what she actually said. In fact, I’m sure she was much gentler, but that’s the gist of what I remember. Regardless, Autumn was right, as always.” His eyes drifted to Alexia as he continued. “Dying’s easy; it’s living that takes work.” 

Bethany followed his gaze, frowning thoughtfully at the warrior woman seated across the room. “I envy her sometimes,” she admitted softly. “When I wake up cold inside and full of that blasted song, I look at her and know she’s warm and not hearing it, and I’m jealous. Then I see her eyes, and I remember why I’d never trade places with her in a hundred ages.” Bethany shivered and looked back at Anders, her expression serious. “It was no kindness, what you did for her.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” he responded softly. Like he’d told Nate at the time, he hadn’t brought Alexia back from the edge of death for her sake. He’d done it for Alistair, for Autumn, to honor them both: Alistair’s dying wish and the wonder Autumn had made of Anders’s own salvaged life over the past two decades. He could only hope that Alexia would have enough time to learn, as he had, to look past the moment and find new reasons for living, new purpose. Maybe she’d come to understand, even thank him, but whether she did or not, he had no regrets about giving her the chance. 

They were both silent for a while, watching the flickering firelight play over the cavern. In the shifting shadows, Anders could almost imagine that Bethany was still the vital, healthy woman he’d known a lifetime ago. But then the flames would flare up, and he would see her sunken eyes, the grey tinges creeping up her cheeks, the brittleness to her dark hair. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Bethany began speaking, her abstracted gaze still on the fire. “I hate this feeling,” she said quietly, voice laced with despair and loathing. “The cold, the weakness, spreading inside me like a growth, little tendrils all through my body. The Song, the almost-voices echoing in my head, never having peace, never in control.” She shuddered. “I’ve been farther down this road than people usually come back from, and doing it a second time is worse. Knowing what’s coming and being powerless.” 

Anders placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering what scant comfort he could give. “I’m reliving the darkest part of my life,” Bethany said, her voice a thin whisper. “The Joining backed off the taint, but that was all it fixed. I was still helpless and alone, thrust into a life with no softness, no pity, surrounded by people I didn’t know who didn’t care what happened to me.” 

“I blamed Autumn,” she admitted, her lips twisting into a tiny, rueful smile. “I knew it wasn’t her fault, not really. She’d done the best she could. But it was hard, and I was alone, and I’d never believed my big sister could fail me. She was supposed to fix everything, for all of us, and when I found out she couldn’t, I resented her. For failing, for leaving me alone among strangers, for going back to the life I couldn’t have. I never blamed you, even though it was as much your doing. I guess it’s harder to envy someone living in a hovel in Darktown.” Anders chuckled along with her, even though there had been days when they first left Kirkwall that he’d missed the simplicity of the clinic, of knowing that he was helping people, in whatever small way. There was a lot to be said for certainty. 

Bethany turned away from the fire to look at Anders again. Her mood had shifted. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her eyes look so hard, so determined. He was reminded again how much he didn’t know about Bethany the Warden. From what he’d seen these few months – or however long it had been – in the Deep Roads, he could say with certainty that he admired the strong, powerful woman she’d grown into, and Autumn would be proud of her baby sister. She’d always had faith that Bethany had so much more inside her than people gave her credit for. 

“I don’t know that I can do this a second time,” Bethany said, voice heavy and flat. 

Anders didn’t know how to respond, so he just sat beside her, let her lean on him, and was there for her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

 

“Not that I question your judgment, Nate,” Anders panted in between spells, “but I think this was a mistake.” 

“I realize that,” came the response from between gritted teeth. The close confines and sheer number of Darkspawn had forced Nate to switch from his bow to long knives, and he was hard pressed to keep the creatures back. Still, if he couldn’t even manage withering sarcasm in response to Anders’s complaint, things might be even worse than the mage had suspected. 

Bethany ringed the group with a perimeter of fire, giving them a moment to catch their breaths. Anders used the time to take stock. The nest Nate had led them to was far better defended than they’d expected, but the bulk of the Darkspawn had been around a single chamber that housed the Broodmothers. The Wardens hadn’t realized their predicament until they were committed against the queens, and then the others had swarmed in from all directions in response to the Broodmothers’ keening cries of agony. Now the group was trapped in the cavern with Darkspawn on all sides, surrounded and vastly outnumbered. Peering through Bethany’s firewall, Anders shuddered at how thick the mass of creatures still was, despite all of their efforts. Nate had pulled his bow back out to feather a few of them through the wall, so Anders followed his lead and shot some spells out as well, knowing it could never be enough to make a meaningful difference. 

“What went wrong?” Bethany asked, far calmer than Anders would expect in the circumstances. “Were you counting on Oghren?”

“You think one dwarf would make a difference against all this?” Anders asked incredulously. 

“You saw what he did in that thaig,” Bethany countered. 

“No,” Nate responded grimly, answering the original question. “I miscalculated. I wasn’t expecting this strong of resistance.” He swore as one of his shots went wide of his chosen target. Anders thought about pointing out there were so many Darkspawn he was sure to have hit _something_ but decided it wasn’t actually very reassuring. Nate returned to his explanation as he nocked another arrow. “I estimated their numbers based on how dense they were in the surrounding tunnels. My sense has range, and Anders is good with type, but we lost the ability to count the bastards at a distance…” Nate stopped himself from saying it, but Anders knew exactly how that sentence ended: when Alistair died. 

He glanced at Alexia, never sure how she’d react to even that veiled mention of her loss, but she didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she was performing an odd dance with a Hurlock Alpha just across the fiery barrier. Alexia was using the range of her greatsword to sweep through the flames without getting burned, blooding the creature then skipping backwards and taunting it to follow. Judging by the seared corpses at her feet, the ruse had already worked on some of the lesser beasts. Anders suspected he’d be treating Alexia for burns if they got out of this; it simply wasn’t possible to get that close to Bethany’s fire spells while encased in metal without taking some serious heat. 

“The wall’s coming down soon,” Bethany warned. Anders could see the flames already beginning to flicker, their cores fading from white-hot to an angry red. “What’s the plan?” 

“Kill as many of them as we can,” Alexia snarled, slashing through the weakening barrier. 

“Great enthusiasm, a little short on details,” Anders critiqued. “Nate?”

“What she said,” the archer responded grimly, pulling his knives back out in preparation for being overrun again. 

“No, no, no,” Anders muttered petulantly. “Don’t leave me to do the planning. Strategy is not my job. I’m here to shoot lightning and be witty.” 

“Nathaniel, if I hold most of them back, can you and Alexia cut a path out,” Bethany called, her tone even and businesslike. 

“Probably,” Nate responded, scanning the edges of the circle for the path out with least resistance. “Lex, with me.” Hearing him, the warrior gave the Alpha one last decisive cut and worked her way along the firewall to Nate’s chosen exit point. 

“What did you have in mind, Beth?” Anders asked warily. 

“Boom,” she responded with a gleeful grin. 

“Boom is good. I like boom,” Anders agreed, returning her smile. “Need a hand?”

She shook her head. “Go with Nathaniel and Alexia. They may need a healer to get through that mess.” 

Just as Anders reached the other two, the last of the flames flickered and died. He saw Bethany toss up a shield to give her time to ready her next spell, and then the Darkspawn flooded into the space the fire had held clear. It was all Anders could do to keep them off Nate and Alexia as they hacked their way towards the tunnel mouth. There was nothing elegant about either of their movements; it was pure butchery. But Anders had to admit they were effective as he moved along in their wake, guarding their backs and keeping an eye on Bethany. Inside her protective bubble, the mage’s slender body was starting to glow with the energies she was gathering. 

In a shorter time than he would have expected, they reached the relative security of the passageway. With stone on two sides, fewer Darkspawn could come at them at one time, and Nate and Alexia were easily able to hold them off. Anders contributed a few spells to aid their efforts, reserving strength for the healing he suspected would be needed once things calmed down. Whatever Beth had planned, this was the moment. 

She realized it, too. In the instant before her shield dropped, Anders saw her flash him a wild grin. Then he couldn’t see her expression any more as she went incandescent, her body filled with so much raw elemental power that it radiated out from her in searing waves of light and heat. “Never Taunt a MAGE!” she roared gleefully. 

Then the world exploded. 

Anders was knocked over by the force of the blast, momentarily stunned as his head slammed into the stone floor. Using a trickle of healing magic to ward off concussion, he sat up and looked around. Nate and Alexia were sprawled on the floor in the tunnel beside him. They both looked dazed but not in need of immediate treatment. The cavern full of Darkspawn was simply gone, replaced by a rockfall that filled the first several feet of the passageway. “Wow,” he said, barely able to hear his own voice over the roaring in his ears. 

“What was _that_?” Nate asked groggily, pushing himself up to lean against a wall. 

“The best elemental mage I have ever seen,” Anders responded in awe. “And that’s saying something. I was raised in a Circle and have worked with the best apostate freedom fighters in Thedas.” Anders knew he was babbling, but he had no idea how to stop. A thought occurred to him that made him smile sadly. “Autumn would be so proud.” 

No one even suggested trying to dig past the deadfall; they could all sense there was nothing still alive on the other side of that rock. Instead, Anders patched Nate and Alexia up, and they made their way out of the remains of the lair. Nate warned that there were a few stragglers who hadn’t made it to the central chamber, so they weren’t caught off guard when they turned a corner to find a handful of Genlocks. 

Anders was totally silent as he charged into their midst. For the first time, he couldn’t think of anything funny to say.


	6. Last Chance

Nathaniel stared into the fire, more weary in mind and body than he could ever recall feeling before. He’d pushed them hard before calling for this rest break, insisting on getting further away from the remains of the nest than was probably necessary. But after his last miscalculation, he wasn’t taking any chances. Exhausted was better than dead. 

There had been a painful few minutes when they first stopped before Anders realized that the task of starting fires fell to him now. Nathaniel knew it was probably his imagination, but the flames lighting the small cavern didn’t seem to be crackling as merrily as Bethany’s always had. 

Alexia was sitting across the fire, deliberately having distanced herself. Nathaniel could feel her retreating progressively further as time passed, which seemed wrong since she was the only one not actively dying. Anders, in contrast, had settled next to Nathaniel and was single-handedly making up for the others’ lack of conversation. He’d never really seemed comfortable with silence. Nathaniel had stopped listening a while ago, just letting the words wash over him as he watched patterns form and dissolve in the fire. Eventually, Anders’s voice trailed off, probably pausing as he searched for something new to ramble about. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alexia broke the brief silence. 

Nathaniel turned to stare at her, startled. She rarely spoke at all anymore, and initiating a conversation was entirely unexpected. 

Anders seemed equally perplexed. “What?” he asked, peering at her through the flames. 

She gazed levelly across at Nathaniel, unperturbed by the scrutiny. “Bethany,” she clarified. “What happened to her wasn’t Nate’s fault.”   
Nathaniel chuckled humorlessly, touched by her concern, misplaced as it was. “I led us into that mess,” he contradicted her. “I put her in the situation that killed her. It _was_ my fault.” 

“No,” Alexia persisted. “You led us into a situation where she chose to make a sacrifice. Honor her memory by letting her keep that choice.” 

“Beth was looking for a time and place,” Anders confirmed sadly. “She found one where she could do the most good for the rest of us.” 

Alexia’s eyes were dark and serious, but there was a quiet passion in them at odds with her usual passivity. Nathaniel wasn’t sure if he should take that as a positive sign or not. “When and how is the only control left,” she said. “This is a one-way trip.” 

“It doesn’t have to be for all of us,” Anders countered pointedly. 

“This is about _Bethany_.” Alexia’s voice was hard, and her eyes turned suddenly cold as she glared at the mage. They locked gazes, staring intensely across the flickering fire for several long minutes. 

Nathaniel wasn’t entirely surprised when Anders broke first, turning away from Alexia’s icy fury. The mage sighed before turning to Nathaniel and picking back up the conversation. “You have to understand how far gone Beth was by the time we found Stroud for her Joining. When a Warden starts out tainted like that, it never fully goes away.” 

Nathaniel nodded thoughtfully, staring into the fire again. Having dealt with a few tainted recruits of his own, he could understand what Bethany was going through and why she would have chosen to end her Calling on her own terms. He raised his head to give Alexia a somewhat forced smile. “I regret that I got us into the situation, but you’re right. My guilt, my taking responsibility, demeans her. I’ll have to learn to live with her choice.” _However briefly,_ he added mentally, trying to shake away the Song that crept into his mind whenever his thoughts stilled. 

Alexia responded with a sharp nod and a grim smile. “It’s good free will matters to _someone_ ,” she said, casting Anders a final dark glare as she rose and stalked towards the small alcove where she’d placed her bedroll. 

“How is she?” Anders asked softly, watching her go with an indecipherable expression. 

“The same. Worse.” Nathaniel shrugged hopelessly. “It’s hard to say. She’s grieving, lost…”

“Missing the other half of her soul,” Anders finished for him. “I get that. Believe me.” 

Nathaniel winced at the bitterness and longing in those words. Somehow, he kept forgetting that the mage had left a wife behind to come down here. Being together like this in the Deep Roads felt strangely like old times, and he found himself frequently thinking of Anders as the free-spirited mage on the run he’d known at Vigil’s Keep. It was odd to think that Anders would be deeply mourned by a grieving widow when all Nathaniel had left behind was his duty. 

While Nathaniel’s life hadn’t turned out how he might have hoped or predicted, that didn’t mean he was especially disappointed. He was truly proud of what he’d accomplished over the last two decades, developing a thriving Warden outpost in Amaranthine, but he did have a few regrets. 

He watched Alexia as she arranged her blankets and began removing the most cumbersome parts of her armor. She’d let her hair grow out through neglect, and it was longer than she’d worn it in years. The firelight gilded it, hiding the pale silver threaded through the blond. Sometimes he could almost see her as the girl he’d played with when they’d been nothing more than the children of neighboring nobles, when Darkspawn had been a distant nightmare and marrying Alexia Cousland a reasonable dream. 

“Are you going to tell her?” Anders asked softly. 

“No,” he answered shortly without looking at the mage, his tone and body language discouraging further questions. He hadn’t realized Anders was aware of his interest in Alexia, but he wasn’t entirely surprised. The enforced intimacy of a prolonged Calling made it difficult to keep secrets from each other, but that didn’t mean he always wanted to discuss his private thoughts. 

“You should tell her,” Anders persisted. 

“After all these years, you think I should say something _now_?” Nathaniel asked with a scornful look. 

Anders nodded, his face serious, refusing to be deterred. “You don’t really have the luxury to wait for a better time.” 

“That’s exactly why I can’t. How could I tell her when the best outcome I can hope for is giving her someone else to mourn?” Nathaniel shook his head. “It would be selfish of me.” 

Anders didn’t respond, and Nathaniel returned to watching the play of firelight on Alexia’s hair. After a few minutes, he asked softly, “Did you mean it earlier? You think she could still walk out of this?”

“The Commander of the Grey is asking the deserter for advice on the Calling?” Anders laughed. 

Nathaniel turned to him with a wry smirk. “The marksman is asking the healer for a prognosis on taint progression.” 

Anders frowned thoughtfully. “There isn’t any,” he said slowly. “Progression, I mean. She doesn’t look any different than when we came down here. I’m not even sure the taint’s advanced much since she had your job back in Amaranthine. It shouldn’t be possible, but…” He shrugged helplessly. “I think we’ve both seen stranger things.” 

Nathaniel gazed into the fire for a few minutes before speaking again. “I think I know where we are,” he said in a low voice, barely loud enough to carry to Anders. He wasn’t entirely sure about this idea, but it felt like something he should do. “If I’m right, there’s an exit to the surface nearby. Will you help me convince her to go?” 

 

When they approached Alexia later with the suggestion that she return to the surface, her initial reaction was exactly what Nathaniel had expected. “Absolutely not,” she said flatly, her face hard. “I’m staying in the Deep Roads. Wardens don’t come back from the Calling.” 

“You didn’t come on _your_ Calling,” Nathaniel reminded her. He’d kept his tone as gentle as possible, but he could still see her wince. 

“It’s only a matter of time,” she responded, shaking her head and pushing away the pain before it could weaken her. “What does it hurt if I get a head start on mine?” 

“You’re not going to have one,” Anders contradicted in a neutral tone. “You show fewer signs of taint than most Wardens with half your experience. My Warden sense agrees: Nate’s starting to feel like a ghoul – no offense, Nate – but you don’t feel much different from a fresh-Joined recruit. I can’t explain it, but you seem to be resistant. No Warden’s ever survived killing an Archdemon before. I’d imagine whatever protected you then is responsible for this, too.” 

Alexia’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears, and she raised a hand to the chain at her throat, unerringly finding the ring despite her gauntlets. “Another thing I owe him for,” she whispered thickly. Nathaniel couldn’t tell if it was meant as gratitude or condemnation, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Alexia wasn’t entirely sure either. 

Nathaniel and Anders waited in uncomfortable silence while she blinked a few times and swallowed, taking a deep breath to compose herself before speaking, her voice determined and even. “It doesn’t matter. A Warden doesn’t have to be dying to kill Darkspawn in the Deep Roads. There’s no reason I can’t stay and help.” 

“You’re becoming a liability to us, Lex,” Nathaniel said bluntly, drawing shocked looks from both of his companions. “With so few of us, we need to rely more on infiltration, hit and run tactics. Anders and I feel more like Darkspawn, so we can get a lot closer to a nest without alerting them, but they know you’re an outsider, and they swarm. You’re _not_ helping. At this point, we need stealth more than a broadsword.” 

Alexia stared at him thoughtfully, and for a moment he dared to hope. Then her jaw set, and he knew she wasn’t convinced. “Find different tactics,” she snapped. “I’m not leaving; I don’t have anything to go back to.” The final words were delivered over her shoulder as she turned and began walking rapidly down the passageway they’d been exploring. 

“That went well,” Anders muttered, watching her stride away. He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed, shouldering his pack and following. 

Nathaniel hesitated a moment before catching up to the mage, wishing he felt more in control of the situation. 

After a while, Anders broke into Nathaniel’s thoughts. “That was somewhat harsh on her, back there,” he said in a tone that was carefully neutral and nonjudgmental. 

Nathaniel frowned, deciding how to explain his thought process. “She won’t live for herself right now,” he said slowly. “So maybe she’ll go if she thinks it’s for someone else.” 

Anders let the conversation lapse, his face thoughtful. Nathaniel was content to walk alongside him in companionable silence, contemplating how to persuade one of the most stubborn women he’d ever met to do something she was firmly set against. 

 

Over the next few days, Nathaniel continued to steer them along paths that lead towards the exit he was familiar with. Periodically, he or Anders would raise the subject of Alexia leaving, but she remained intractable, refusing to be swayed and often simply walking away from the conversation. This region of the Deep Roads, being more directly connected to the surface, was sparsely populated, so Nathaniel worried less about Alexia separating herself from the group. After months in these tunnels, he had to admit it was very welcome to have stretches of time without Darkspawn pressing at the edges of his awareness. Any relief he might have felt was replaced by a growing worry about how to persuade Alexia to abandon this Calling. 

After a particularly frustrating conversation where all of Nathaniel’s cold logic was met with vitriol and bitterness, Alexia spun on her heel and stalked briskly down the passageway ahead of them. Nathaniel could take small satisfaction in the knowledge that she was unknowingly hurrying towards the exit, but we was beginning to lose hope. 

“Let me talk to her when we stop to camp,” Anders suggested once the echo of her footsteps had faded. “I have something in mind that will work better if you’re not around.” 

Nathaniel nodded dubiously. Alexia had been avoiding Anders as much as possible since he’d stopped her from dying with Alistair, so it was hard to imagine she’d be inclined to listen to him now. But Nathaniel was running out of ideas, so it wouldn’t hurt any to let the mage try. 

 

Several hours later, when they had found a suitable chamber to make camp, Nathaniel decided to go scouting for game, giving Anders the chance he’d wanted. He also harbored a vague hope that, being closer to the surface, he might find some game other than deepstalker. While the vicious lizards were probably not the worst thing he’d ever eaten, after several months with no other source of meat, variety would be incredibly welcome. 

Unfortunately, he returned empty-handed, having encountered nothing more appetizing than the deepstalker they already had. As he came back into the small cavern, he saw Anders and Alexia engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. So perhaps his hunting excursion had been beneficial on that front, at least. Not wanting to intrude, he settled in quietly near the fire to tend to his gear. 

A short time later, he was interrupted by a hand lightly placed on his shoulder. From the soft scrape of her footsteps, metal on rock, he knew it was Alexia. For a fleeting moment, he thought Anders had succeeded and she’d come to say goodbye. 

Then she spoke, her voice gentle and hesitant. “How long, Nate?” 

One look at her face was enough to dispel any lingering hopes that this might be about something, anything else. He thought about feigning ignorance, continuing the pretense that he’d been keeping up for far too long, but she didn’t look like she’d be convinced. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to have this conversation, if it happened at all, but Anders had forced his hand. He opted for complete honesty; he owed their friendship at least that much. “You didn’t really think the betrothal discussions were my father’s idea, did you?” 

The look of shock on her face was almost enough to make the entire awkward conversation worth it, and he had to fight to keep from laughing. The pity that rose up in her eyes quickly cured him of that urge. “That long?” she asked. “Why didn’t you ever say something? If I’d known…”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he said calmly, voice level and soft. Her brow furrowed slightly, and he shook his head slowly. “The betrothal didn’t work out, and by the time our paths crossed again, you were happily married. I would never interfere with that.” 

“But all these years…” 

Nathaniel chuckled at her bewilderment as she tried to come to grips with something he’d accepted long ago. He gently took the hand she’d left on his shoulder and drew her down to sit next to him. “No guilt, Lex,” he told her with a reassuring half-smile. “It’s not like I’ve been pining the entire time. I just… never stopped caring about you.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments as she adjusted to this revelation and he tried to ignore the tightness in his chest just from holding her hand. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said eventually. “Anders wasn’t supposed to be delving into decades-old secrets. He told me he would try to persuade you to leave the Deep Roads.” 

“That’s what he was doing, in a way,” she responded with a quick shrug. “He said I should go for your sake, that it would be cruel to you if I stayed.” 

“Damn Anders,” Nathaniel muttered with a rueful chuckle. “An argument that would go better without me present, he told me. I suppose that was true enough.” He took a deep breath to steel himself and then met her gaze. “He had no right to tell you, but that doesn’t make him wrong.” 

He deliberately let down all of the walls and masks, baring everything he was feeling, all of the longing and regret. “I stood by and watched you die once, Alexia. Please don’t ask me to do it again.” 

She sat frozen for a moment, staring at him as emotions flickered through her eyes too quickly to identify. “Damn Anders,” she echoed, voice quavering. “And damn you too, Nate.” He saw her eyes well with tears before she turned away, blinking rapidly. She pulled her hand away from him to dash at her eyes. When she turned back, her cheeks glistened wetly, but her eyes were hard and her voice steady. “You win. I’ll go.”

 

Later, after Alexia had retreated to her blankets in search of privacy as much as sleep, Nathaniel found himself sitting with Anders by the fire, silently watching the crackling flames as they died down. 

“We head straight towards the surface when we break camp,” Nathaniel said eventually, carefully keeping his tone firm and emotionless. “She’s agreed to leave.” 

Anders nodded acknowledgement, a look of satisfaction flitting across his face, quickly replaced by a more pensive expression. “You’re mad at me,” he said softly, not really a question. 

“I don’t know what I am right now,” Nathaniel responded, too weary to be anything but flatly honest. A part of him wanted to rage at Anders for forcing him to confront emotions he’d kept buried for so long, but he couldn’t deny that he was grateful Alexia had been persuaded to give up this Calling. He didn’t know if he wanted to punch the mage or thank him, but he was certain that he felt too emotionally drained to do either at the moment. 

“It was your idea, you know,” Anders broke the silence again after a few moments. There was the tiniest hint of defensive justification in his tone that suggested he wasn’t as certain as he was trying to sound. 

“Really?” Nathaniel asked dryly, raising his eyebrow in skepticism. “What I remember saying is that under no circumstances did I want her to know.” 

“You _also_ said she needed to live for someone else if she wouldn’t live for herself.” Anders shrugged. “So I convinced her to live for you.” 

The simplicity of the explanation hit Nathaniel with a force that was almost physical. He felt like the mage’s words had slammed him in the chest and left him stunned, struggling to breathe. “You had no right,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Anders shrugged again, neither denial nor apology. 

Nathaniel gazed into the shifting patterns of the fire for a while longer before asking, “Why did you save her? What is she to you?” He turned an intent stare on the mage, wanting to understand whatever answer followed. 

“I didn’t do it for her,” Anders responded calmly. “Any more than last time.” He turned away from meeting Nathaniel’s scrutiny, eyes going distant as he looked past the fire, into the darkness. “I did it for you,” he continued softly. “Because no man should have to die knowing the woman he loves is dying alongside him needlessly.” 

Anders continued in a barely audible whisper. “Maybe someday she’ll understand that and forgive me.” From the look of pain that haunted his eyes, Nathaniel was fairly certain he was no longer talking about Alexia. “At least I made sure she’ll have the time to try.” 

 

Since there was no longer any need for subterfuge about their destination, Nathaniel abandoned any pretense of scouting and led them along the most direct route towards the surface, trusting the range of his Warden sense to alert him to pockets of Darkspawn along their path. They stopped twice more to camp on the way. 

Alexia seemed different during that time, less closed off. He could still see the bitterness and grief inside her, but she covered it with a veneer of camaraderie. Instead of isolating herself, she sat by the fire chatting with the two of them. She reminisced with Nathaniel about their shared childhood and coaxed Anders into telling stories of his life with Autumn. She’d clearly decided how she wanted to remember each of them. 

Nathaniel was entirely willing to cooperate. He relished the sense of closeness that developed in this last, short time, storing up his own memories as something to hold onto against the coming darkness. Recalling stories from her youth brought Alexia alive again. At times, he caught glimpses of the bright child he’d played with, the stunning girl he’d longed for, the vibrant woman he’d admired from afar. Nathaniel couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d heard her laugh openly, and he wished he could preserve the sound, crystallize it and tuck it away for when his nerve started to falter. There were moments in these last few days that he knew would sustain him through whatever came next. 

Anders, on the other hand, withdrew from the others as they neared the surface. He spent less time sharing stories and idle chatter around the fire and more time apart, shoulders hunched beneath a blanket, bent over ink and paper he produced from a pouch in his bag. At times, when the fire flared up, it revealed a haunted, almost desperate look on Anders’s face, and Nathaniel decided not to press him about what he was writing, letting the mage choose his own time to explain. 

 

When they eventually reached the final tunnel to the surface, Nathaniel drew up short. He’d resigned himself to the Deep Roads when he’d left on his Calling, and there was no sense in returning to the light when he knew he couldn’t stay. He’d learned long ago about the dangers of taunting himself with what he couldn’t have. 

He indicated to Alexia that they’d arrived, and she nodded in response. She spoke to Anders while Nathaniel felt along the passageway with his Warden sense to confirm that her route ahead was clear. Thus engaged, he heard little of her conversation with Anders beyond the parting exchange. 

He noticed that Anders looked hesitant, uncertain, a drastic departure from most of his recent behavior. The mage pulled a folded parchment packet from inside his coat, holding it towards Alexia with a slight tremor in his hands. Anders’s voice was pitched too softly for Nathaniel to hear, but he caught a few words, Alexia responding to some intent, indistinct plea as she took the package. 

“I promise she’ll get it,” she responded firmly. “But I’m doing this for her, not for you.” 

Anders laughed, a sudden startling bark that drew a tight answering smile from Alexia as she clasped his offered hand. 

Then Alexia turned to Nathaniel, and the liminal space he’d been living in collapsed. It was finally time, time for her to go and him to stay. Standing before her, he couldn’t speak. All of his thoughts felt hollow, insufficient. He wanted to wish her well, to thank her for accepting her life back, but it felt maudlin and trite, a dying man continuing on vicariously by forcing her to live for his sake. He could find no way, in these last moments, to tell her what she meant to him, to condense decades’ worth of admiration, respect, and longing into a few seconds. 

Alexia seemed to be having difficulty as well. Her eyes were dark with indecipherable emotion, and her lips parted as she struggled to find words. Gently, she placed a gauntleted hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss him, a simple brushing of her lips against his, acknowledgment and apology for everything she’d been unable to give him. He froze, uncertain what she wanted, if he should respond or simply accept what she offered. This was dangerously uncharted territory, and he would never risk hurting her when she was making herself so vulnerable for him. 

She pulled back slightly, then embraced him, her cheek pressed against his and her lips so close to his ear that he felt as much as heard her whisper, “Goodbye, Nate.” 

His eyes drifted shut as he was overwhelmed by the unexpected intimacy, achingly bittersweet. He’d given up ever hoping for a response from her, and it seemed both entirely fitting and cruelly ironic that it should happen now, like this. The sympathy and regret in her voice were nearly palpable, and he felt the breath catch in his throat in a silent sob. He wanted nothing more than to grasp onto her, comfort her, hold her against him and cling to this moment. 

But he had no right, and it would be utterly selfish to expect more from her when she was already drowning in grief and guilt. She had given him everything she was capable of, and it was enough. The memory of that single kiss – their first, their last – would shield him against the Song eroding his mind. There was nothing more he could ask of her. So he resisted the urge to reach out for her, feeling himself trembling with the effort of maintaining control, of letting her go. 

By the time he opened his eyes, she was gone, striding away up the passageway to the surface, her back straight and head held high. _Regal,_ he thought. _She always has been._

Nathaniel stood where he was, staring down the tunnel after her until the last echo of her footsteps faded and she’d passed beyond the range of his Warden sense. Then he nodded to Anders and turned back the way they’d come, leaving the promise of the surface behind and heading back down into the darkness.


	7. Last Words

The tunnel emerged partway up a hillside, looking out over a lush valley. It was night, and she was thankful for the darkened sky. Even the dim moon seared her light-starved eyes after so many months in the darkness. 

She recognized the plants growing around the small stream that ran through the valley, all native to northern Ferelden, suggesting she was in her brother’s lands. The valley wasn’t familiar, and she hoped it was sufficiently remote that her presence would go unnoticed. 

She took a deep breath of the clear night air, gazing out across a landscape that felt almost alien in its familiarity. Her world had become stone and darkness, and she’d embraced its bleakness. Returning to this vibrant, living landscape was shocking, and she was overwhelmed by the rush of sensations, of memory. 

Staring up into the firmament, brilliant with stars she had expected to never see again, she collapsed to her knees and wept, alone under the empty sky. 

 

She left Ferelden. It was too full of memories, familiar places that felt empty now, people that knew her as someone she no longer wanted to be. She traveled: the Marches, Antiva, Rivain. Everywhere she went, she listened, asked subtle questions, searched. 

Eventually she found her quarry, holding court in a tavern that managed to be both seedy and a little charming. Which was an apt description for him, as well. She spent the evening listening unobtrusively, nursing a few drinks and dreaming about the past. Late in the night, once the last members of his audience had finally left, she approached his table. 

He eyed her as she walked up, gaze appraising. His posture was casual, leaning back in his chair, but she could see the tension underneath it, the hand carefully positioned in reach of a concealed knife. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pre-empted him. “Varric Tethras?”

“Might be,” he said warily. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“Sunshine and Blondie send their regards. I have a story I need you to tell.”

*******

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, no shit, is how I met the Hero-Queen of Ferelden. Who’s buying the next round?” 


	8. Last Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section of the story was a collaboration with my wonderful beta/writing partner, SignCherie.
> 
> I wanted to give Anders's story closure by delivering his final letter to Autumn Hawke, but I had no idea what was in the letter or how she would take it. So I turned to the Anders/Autumn expert for help.

Alexia casually examined the modest house as Varric knocked on the door in an irregular rhythm that was either a code or a personal idiosyncrasy. When he’d found out that Alexia was carrying Anders’s last letter to his wife, the dwarf had insisted that they go at once to deliver it. Alexia hadn’t argued; if she’d been in Autumn’s place, she would have wanted someone to do the same for her. 

In a strange way, she found herself feeling almost jealous of Autumn, having these final words. There were times when Alexia desperately wished she had something similar, a parting missive that she could read when she needed to hear his voice. She knew it was greedy of her. She’d been there to hold his hand, to tell him she loved him, and she would never give that up, as painful as it was to cling to. Even so, she ached for something tangible, something less prone to warp and blur like memory. Unbidden, her hand rose towards the ring she wore on a chain under her armor, but she forced her arm back to her side and cleared her mind. This was about Autumn and Anders, and her own bereavement was irrelevant at the moment. 

Shortly, the door opened, revealing a woman who was presumably Autumn Hawke. She looked slightly untidy, her hair lank and clothing rumpled, as if she’d quit caring about her appearance, but Alexia could hardly fault her for it. She greeted Varric warmly, but any delight she expressed at his unexpected visit felt slightly brittle and faded quickly as she saw he wasn’t alone. Alexia didn’t blame the other woman for her reaction; it was only reasonable to be apprehensive about a heavily-armed and armored stranger arriving unannounced. 

Alexia met Autumn’s questioning stare with an open expression, spreading her hands to show they were empty and speaking reassuringly. “I’m not a Templar or a Seeker. I didn’t come to harm or threaten you. May we come in?” 

Autumn remained guarded, but the tension had decreased somewhat. “That’s a lot of ‘not’,” she observed. “Any clues to who and what you _are_ before I let you into my home?” 

“A failed Grey Warden,” Alexia responded. “And, at the moment, a courier.” With that, she slowly pulled the folded packet from her bag, holding it so that Autumn could see her name written on the outside. 

It was obvious the moment she recognized Anders’s handwriting. The blood drained from her face, and she staggered backwards a few steps, pulling the door open further. Alexia entered, placing the letter in the shaking hand Autumn held outstretched. Varric came in just behind her, closing the door and guiding Autumn towards a chair where she collapsed heavily as her legs gave out. 

“Where… where did you get this?” Autumn asked, staring at Alexia with wide eyes in a ghostly pale face. 

“From his hand,” she said, keeping her tone even and calming. “It’s genuine.” 

“Where is he? Why send _you_ here? Is he still alive?” Autumn looked towards the door and moved as if to stand, a desperate, irrational hope flickering across her face for a moment before she dropped back into the chair, eyes full of concern and uncertainty. 

Varric placed a gentle, steadying hand on Autumn’s shoulder as Alexia spoke. “He’s in the Deep Roads, on Calling. Given how long it’s been since I left, it’s unlikely they still survive.” 

“They,” Autumn echoed, relief mixed with a different sort of hope in her voice. “He’s not alone. Bethany?” 

The answer must have been obvious on Alexia’s face, because she saw Autumn’s expression change before she replied, “I’m sorry, no. Your sister…” Alexia trailed off, uncertain how to explain Bethany’s sacrifice with words that wouldn’t sound like trite platitudes. 

“Sunshine did us proud,” Varric supplied, smoothly filling the gap left by Alexia’s hesitation. 

“Of course she did,” Autumn responded immediately. Alexia thought she seemed almost relieved to hear of her sister’s death, perhaps finding comfort in the certainty, in having closure. 

The room was silent for a moment, Alexia giving Autumn time to process and decide what to do next. A frown creased her forehead as she returned to a point Alexia had hoped to avoid. “Why were you there? Why aren’t you still there?” 

“I’m a Grey Warden. A group of us met in the Deep Roads on Calling.” She paused before continuing, considering how much of an explanation she owed this woman. “I left because a highly skilled healer proclaimed me resistant to the Taint and said I didn’t belong on Calling.” 

“How was he?” Autumn asked apprehensively. Alexia stared at her, puzzled, unsure how to respond until she clarified. “What did he look like when you last saw him?”

Alexia closed her eyes and thought for a moment, trying to bring to mind an image of Anders in that final passageway, brushing aside the other faces that always came first. “Tired,” she finally answered. “Worn. Determined.” She remembered then that Autumn had seen her sister Tainted and suspected that she was looking for more specific details. “His skin was starting to grey, but his eyes weren’t clouded. Brittle hair, the dark lines edging up the neck. He was distracted by the Song at times but still lucid.” She paused and considered her next words carefully. “I think he was ready to seek an end. That letter was the last thing he needed to let go of. When I left with it, he looked… content.” 

Apparently she had judged correctly on the level of detail Autumn was seeking. The worst of the fear and tension left her frame, and she began fidgeting with the packet in her lap, staring down at it and running a finger over the folded parchment. 

“I’m sure you’ll want privacy to read that,” Alexia offered, slipping into habitual court manners. “Would you prefer that we go? Or would you rather we wait here?”

Autumn looked up at her quickly, as if startled at having her thoughts divined. “Please, stay. I think I might want to talk more… after.” She gestured towards a door that Alexia assumed led to her bedroom. “I’ll be in there if anyone needs me.” 

“Take whatever time you need.” 

Autumn nodded absently as she stood and left the room, her hands picking at the edge of the parchment anxiously. 

Alexia watched her go with a mixture of compassion and envy. She reached unconsciously for the chain at her throat as she turned back to Varric, settling in to go over more details of her story while they waited. 

 

Autumn Hawke closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it for support, holding the packet in shaking hands.

Anders.

She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to hear from him ever again. He had disappeared from Thedas completely, as though he had never existed, as though he hadn’t been her constant companion, filling her life with humor and passion and purpose. He was just gone, and she’d been left behind, empty and alone.

And now there was a letter.

She lifted the package to her face and inhaled. She wanted it to smell like him, that familiar mix of elfroot and soap she always associated with Anders, but it was just the musty smell of parchment.

Her trembling fingers traced the shape of the letters forming her name in his script, then unfolded the packet. The Tevinter Chantry amulet slid out into her open palm.

For a moment, Autumn was no longer in her bedroom. She was back in Anders’s clinic, handing him the amulet for the first time. He was taking it from her hands, listening to her explanation, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grateful smile as he realized the purpose of the gift. They hadn’t been lovers yet, and Anders’s fingers had closed tightly around the amulet, some unspoken emotion battling behind his eyes.

Funny how she could remember things that had happened so long ago as if they were yesterday. From then on, Anders had worn that amulet every day of his life.

Autumn put the amulet around her own neck. She sat on the ground, smoothed the parchment out with her hands, and began to read.

 

My dearest love,

I can’t believe I have this chance to send you these final words. Nathaniel and I have convinced Alexia to give up her Calling and return to the surface, and although I didn’t do it for myself, I can’t ignore the opportunity this presents. We may not have been close friends, Alexia and I, and we don’t always see eye to eye, but she’s an honorable woman, and I’ve always respected her. She’ll get this to you, I’m sure of it.

I’m not alone down here, love. Oghren was here, and Alistair, the King of Ferelden, though titles mean nothing here. Alexia will leave soon, and then it will just be me and Nathaniel. Bethany–you would be so proud of her, darling. You always were of course, but you should know what a strong, capable woman she grew into. She went out courageously, saving all our lives, for what little time we’ll have left, anyway.

But I’m rambling, and wasting time, because I only have so much parchment, and Alexia will be gone soon. Maker, I feel like I’m a nervous young man again, back before I knew you loved me. I used to compose letters for you back then, letters that I wrote and rewrote and then tore to pieces without ever showing you. But I don’t have the luxury of rewriting now, so this will have to stand.

I’m sorry, Autumn. I’m so sorry for leaving you behind this way. I took away your choice and forced you to go on without me. I’m sorry for being too cowardly to let you come with me and end your life the way you chose.

I wish I could say I did it for you. Sometimes I can almost convince myself I did. I think of the things you could go on to do, the places you might go that we never got to, the people you might meet, the good you might do. You’ve always had a light inside you, shining like a beacon, and it draws people to you. You look at things and see to the heart of them, take what seemed impossible and make it a reality. There’s so much still out there for you, and I try to tell myself that that’s why I did it, as if I had some right to decide what was best for you.

But I can’t fool myself for long. The real reason is much simpler and much more selfish. I couldn’t stand it, knowing that if you came with me, I would have to watch you die. That in my final moments I might see your broken and bleeding body, the life ebbing from it, when it ought to be whole and healthy. And I would know that if it weren’t for me, if I had never come into your life, you would still be alive somewhere, happy and carefree. I’ve seen you broken and bleeding far more often than any man should have to see his wife, Autumn, and somehow I get through it when I know I can heal you, but to know that this time, this time it’s for good, and you won’t get back up–Maker. I’ve never been strong, Autumn. I wasn’t strong enough to do it. I was too weak to give you the choice I would have wanted for myself.

Still, it was the second-hardest thing I’ve ever done, to walk away and leave you behind. It would have been such an easy thing to give in, to surrender to your wishes and let you stay by my side. All it would take was one word, “yes,” and I could have you here with me, right now. I could look over in battle and you’d be there, felling darkspawn after darkspawn and flashing me that impish smile that still undoes me to this day. Between battles, you’d slip your hand into mine as we walked, and I could listen to you chatter quietly under your breath–how is it that I never tire of listening to your voice? And at night, I’d hold you tight in my arms, and you’d bury your head against my chest the way you do when you get cold.

But you _are_ here with me, love. I left you behind, but you’re still here. Every hour, every moment, I see you. Sometimes, I see you the way you looked when you first walked into my clinic, young and vibrant and ready to take on the world. Sometimes I see you on our wedding day, with tears of happiness glistening in your eyes, and I remember how unbelievable that seemed, how incredibly lucky I was that you were not only _willing_ to tie your life to mine, but joyful about it. Sometimes I see you standing over me in Kirkwall in the midst of the rubble, grief-stricken, telling me in no uncertain terms that you refuse to let me end my life.

But mostly I see you as I saw you last, with flecks of grey in your hair and laugh lines around your eyes. You’ve grown even more beautiful with time, do you know that? You are more precious to me now than ever.

And, my love, my heart, I am with you, too. I’m there beside you every minute, never doubt it. Even after I’m gone, when you have this letter in your hands, I promise you, I’ll be with you, watching you from the Fade. I swear it, Autumn.

I wanted to give you something, a piece of me that you can keep with you, to help you remember that I am still there, still yours. I had planned to send my wedding ring, but in the end I couldn’t bear to die without it. I’ve never taken it off, not since the day you slipped it on my finger, and I can’t bring myself to do it now. I hope you understand. This amulet has always been a reminder of you for me; perhaps now it can serve as a reminder of me for you.

I’ll be gone by the time you read this letter. I don’t intend to let this go on much longer. I haven’t forgotten Larius, and I don’t intend to end up like him. If you’re worried about me, love, you don’t need to fear. By the time these words reach you, I’ll be at peace.

I suppose, in the end, what I really need to say is thank you. Thank you, my love. You gave me twenty years more than I expected to live, and you filled them with joy. I never believed I could have the life you gave me, not since I was a boy of twelve and the magic started for the first time. But you made me happy, and for that, I owe you everything. I love you, Autumn, more than anything else in the world. I only hope that you can forgive me for what I’ve done.

Yours eternally,  
Anders

 

Tears were streaming down Autumn’s cheeks as her trembling hands lowered the letter.

They had argued and argued for weeks before Anders disappeared. Both of them knew what was coming, and neither of them would give way. When Bethany turned up on their doorstep in search of company for her Calling, it brought matters to a head. Autumn absolutely refused to let her husband and baby sister go off to die without her, and Anders absolutely refused to bring her along.

That last night, Anders wouldn’t even discuss it. “Tomorrow, love,” he’d said as he kissed her. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

They’d made love passionately and repeatedly that night, Anders using his magic to bring them both back to arousal over and over again and taking her with a fierce possessiveness until they finally collapsed, exhausted and sated, in each other’s arms. She should have guessed then what he planned. Fool that she was, she’d thought that he was ready to give in and was channelling his fear for her life into more carnal pursuits.

But when she awoke alone the next morning and found both Anders and Bethany gone, she’d understood. And she’d fallen apart.

All her life, Autumn had devoted herself to her family, and one by one, she’d lost them all. Her father had been the first. For all she’d worked and trained to make herself a strong warrior who could protect her father and sister from whatever the templars might send, she couldn’t battle the fever that raged through his body, turning him into a pale, wasted semblance of his former self before taking his life.

Carver had been next, and even now, thirty years later, Autumn replayed that moment in her head, thinking of what she could have done, should have done, to stop that ogre, to keep her brother’s life from being snuffed out before he’d even begun to live. And then she’d lost Bethany, her baby sister who followed her, trusting, into the Deep Roads. Autumn had scarcely seen her sister in the last twenty-odd years since she’d handed Bethany over to the Wardens, not knowing if she would live or die.

When her mother was murdered, the only thing that held her together was Anders. When she’d lain awake that first night, shivering and sobbing, he’d been the one to hold her, pressing kisses into her hair. 

He was the last family she had.

Anders had given her something to live for. That sexy smirk he’d flash when he was in a good mood. The hardening of his eyes when he saw an injustice in action. The way he held her so tight at night, as if he was afraid she might disappear from his grasp. All the little pieces of him fit together to build the foundation of her life.

He’d taken all that with him when he went. She was left behind, a crumbling ruin, no support to hold her up.

_I only hope that you can forgive me for what I’ve done._

Maker curse him. This was so bloody _typical_ of him. He couldn’t even let her be angry at him. He had to win in every possible way.

A tear fell from her cheek onto the parchment. Autumn blotted it quickly before it could smear the ink.

“And what am I supposed to do now, Anders?” she said to the empty room. “What do I have left to live for?”

There was no answer.

What good did it do to have Anders watching her from the Fade? She needed him here. She needed to hear him tell her he loved her. She needed his passion for the mage cause to push her onward. She needed his face to be the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes at night and the first thing she woke up to in the morning.

Andraste’s pyre, she wished she’d gone with him. She knew it was illogical; that there was no way she could have stopped him from dying. Nothing she could have done would have changed anything. She even understood his reasons for leaving her behind. It didn’t matter. She only knew that she needed him now, and he wasn’t here.

Autumn hunched forward and gave in to her grief, letting the sobs wrack her body.

 

She didn’t know how much time had passed when a hand on her shoulder made her start and look up.

Varric.

Autumn pushed the hair out of her face and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, struggling to pull herself together. “Oh, Varric–I’m so sorry–”

Varric sighed and knelt next to her, slipping his arms around her. 

“Hawke. Please. This is me you’re talking to. Don’t insult me by apologizing for crying.”

Autumn let out a shuddering sob and let him pull her close, pressing her face into his shoulder. Varric stroked her hair and rocked slowly back and forth.

It was so good just to be held like this, even if she couldn’t stop the tears that were staining Varric’s jacket. 

No one had held her since the night Anders disappeared. Varric’s thick arms were warm and comforting. He laid his cheek against her head, and Autumn squeezed her eyes shut.

Varric said nothing, just letting his presence be a comfort. 

After a few minutes, Autumn spoke, her choked voice muffled against his jacket. “I don’t know why I’m so–I mean, I _knew_ he was gone. I knew. I just–when I read his words–I couldn’t–”

“I know, Hawke.”

Autumn pulled back and tried to compose herself. “That woman–Alexia, I should–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Varric brushed a tear from her cheek. “I got this covered. Are you hungry? My gut says that you haven’t eaten in a while.”

Autumn thought of food, and her stomach turned. She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat.”

“We’ll see.”

Varric stood up, pulling Autumn with him, and led her to the bed. When he had her tucked in under the covers, he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll bring you some dinner in a bit. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You just let it out if you need to.”

How did he know exactly what she needed? He was such a good friend, and she was so lucky to have him. “Varric,” she said, wanting to thank him, “I–” 

Varric shook his head. “That’s what I’m here for, Hawke,” he said.

He was always one step ahead of her. 

Varric smiled, patted her hand, and left her. Autumn rolled over, closed her eyes, and tried to find sleep.

 

Alexia waited as the light coming in the windows faded slowly from golden afternoon to dim twilight with no sign of movement from the bedroom. Not having expected to see Autumn again today, she wasn’t particularly surprised. She couldn’t begrudge Autumn taking the time to grieve, and it wasn’t like Alexia had anything important to do that was being interrupted. 

As the twilight turned to full dark, Varric suggested casually that he might go look in on Autumn, to see if she needed anything. Alexia agreed quickly. Autumn should be reminded that she wasn’t entirely alone, but any intrusion on her grief would be better coming from an old friend than from the complete stranger who’d brought her the news. 

Feeling the need to contribute, Alexia offered to cobble together a light meal. She might be ill-equipped to provide comfort, but she could offer sustenance. So while Varric was out of the main room, Alexia rummaged through Autumn’s pantry. She nearly began salivating at the sight of fresh fruit and bread; simple things had become nearly-forgotten luxuries after months in the Deep Roads. 

Alexia selected a just-ripe pear and sliced it, arranging the pieces on a plate with some soft bread. She drew out cheese and dried apple rings from her pack to supplement the meal, wanting to make a contribution of her own. It wasn’t anything fancy, but that wasn’t what Autumn needed right now. Alexia hoped the array of simple finger-food might tempt Autumn to eat a few bites now, but if it didn’t, it could sit out overnight and serve as breakfast. Alexia knew from experience that even the most overwhelming grief would eventually succumb to hunger. She wanted Autumn to have something readily at hand when that point hit, rather than having to seek out food and feel irrationally guilty about caring for herself. 

Varric took the plate with an approving glance when he emerged from the bedroom. “Put one together for yourself, too,” he said before slipping back in to deliver Autumn’s dinner. He returned shaking his head and reporting that she was already asleep. 

Alexia shrugged. “The food will keep. She needs to sleep. It’s the best way to escape some of the initial grief.” 

Varric regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before changing the subject. “I’m going out for a bit. There are some people I need to talk to, let them know Autumn won’t be around for a few days.” 

Alexia sensed his evasion and pressed, out of stubbornness more than curiosity. “What sort of people?”

The dwarf rubbed at his eyebrow. “No offense, but I’m not sure how much I can trust you, Queenie.” 

“In the past few days, I’ve shared with you every detail about one of the worst times of my life. I think you know who I am. If this is about the mage group Anders talked about, what makes you think I would wish them ill?” 

“They aren’t my secrets to keep, and there are a lot of people at stake,” he said. “There’s an inn a few streets over, much nicer but less full of character than the places I usually choose. Bad for stories, good for sleeping. I figure I’ll stop in there when I’m done. I can take you on my way.”

Alexia shook her head. “I’m staying here. Whenever Autumn wakes up, she shouldn’t be alone.”

Varric nodded approvingly. “Then I’ll see you ladies in the morning.” He paused on his way out the door. “Or at least around noon.” 

 

Autumn awoke alone.

She’d been waking alone for months now, but she still reached for Anders, every morning, in that state between sleep and wakefulness. She would roll over, hands searching, her slumbering mind expecting him to be stretched out beside her, his arms and legs strewn everywhere, his body warm and comfortable. In twenty-odd years, he’d never stopped hogging the bed.

This morning, she woke up and knew she was alone. She felt it like a weight in her chest, heavy and painful. It was as if her entire body were made of lead. Even lifting a finger seemed impossible.

She’d wanted to be dead by now. She’d wanted to go with Anders, to find peace when he did, to avoid the pain of living without him. She hadn’t wanted to face a world that didn’t have him in it, and she’d spent their last few months together arguing with him about it, precious time that she could never get back. But she hadn’t realized that then. She’d only known that he was going to die and she didn’t want to be left alone.

How selfish of her.

Her head was clearer that morning, as if a fog had been blown away and replaced by a clear blue sky. Her mind must have been turning Anders’s words over and over in her head as she slept, and she awoke with a new realization. 

Anders was right. 

He shouldn’t have to bear the guilt of causing her death. He shouldn’t have to watch her be crushed by darkspawn. She’d watched Carver go that way, and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. The mages still needed her, and Anders deserved to find his peace knowing that she was alive and well and looking after the cause they had both fought for.

She hadn’t understood what it would be like for Anders to watch her die. She hadn’t even considered it. She’d only known that she didn’t want to live without him, and like a stubborn fool, she closed her mind to any other possibility.

And he’d called himself weak. What did that make her? He was the one dying, and his only wish was that she continue to live. He’d given her nearly thirty years of happiness. She owed him that much.

_I’m there beside you every minute, never doubt it._

She would go on. It would be hard. Near impossible, sometimes. There would be days, like this one, when just getting out of bed seemed like an insurmountable feat.

She would go on living for Anders. Because he’d wanted it.

Autumn sat up.

There was a tray of food on her bedside table. Cut fruit, bread, cheese. Some of it had clearly not come from her pantry, and it wasn’t quite Varric’s style. He would have left her a greasy stew and a tankard of ale.

It must have been Alexia Cousland.

Autumn realized she was starving and took the tray gratefully. When she had eaten every last bite, she rose, dressed, combed her hair, and went to thank the queen of Ferelden for playing messenger for her.

Autumn opened the door the living room–and paused. She had the distinct feeling she was intruding on a private moment. Alexia was seated on the hearth rug, staring into the fire. Except for her gauntlets, she wore full armor despite the early hour. Somehow that wasn’t surprising. The woman had the look of someone who was comfortable in armor. Her knees were drawn up towards her chest, one arm loosely holding them there. The other hand clutched at something on a chain around her neck. Autumn couldn't see what the token was, but the weight of the Tevinter Chantry amulet against her own chest made it easy to guess its significance. 

Something must have revealed her presence in the doorway because Alexia turned to face her, the open, vulnerable expression on her face quickly replaced by one of compassion and polite concern.

 

Alexia regarded Autumn thoughtfully as the other woman emerged into the main room. She was still pale and wan, her eyes puffy and red from crying. But even so, Alexia thought she looked better than she had the previous day. Attempts had been made to tame her hair, and she no longer held herself with the tension of someone braced for a blow. Alexia supposed there was a sense of relief in knowing the worst had happened, that there was nothing more to fear. 

Alexia tucked the ring back under her breastplate and was about to offer Autumn a cup of tea when the other woman spoke. 

"You're Alexia Cousland." There was no emotional weight to the statement, but it still hit like a punch to the chest, the reminder of what she’d lost. 

"Some days I still think so." Alexia had hoped for anonymity, to avoid being defined by who she used to be. She wondered if it was Varric or Anders who had spoiled that for her. Not that it mattered. The damage was done. 

Seeing Autumn make a face and open her mouth to speak, likely to apologize, Alexia shoved aside her bitterness and quickly composed herself. This was about Autumn and her grief, not Alexia's own struggles. Rising to her feet, she forced a smile on her face and responded brightly, "You can amaze your neighbors and get free drinks in pubs for years by telling them that the queen of Ferelden slept on your hearth rug." 

She had expected amusement, but Autumn looked shocked and slightly distressed. “I have a spare bedroom. You didn’t have to sleep on the floor. Varric should have told you.” 

Alexia shook her head, brushing aside the concerns. “It’s fine, honestly. This is more comfortable than the Deep Roads, and I like being near the fire after so long in the darkness.” Alexia chided herself for continuing to draw attention to her issues when she was here for Autumn’s sake. When had she gotten so self-absorbed? 

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked, turning to the kitchen to get a mug. “I found some in your pantry last evening. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine. Please, help yourself.”

Alexia retrieved a second mug and checked the kettle she’d left to steep, pouring out a bit to test the color. “I think this comes from my mother. She firmly believed there was nothing so awful that a cup of tea couldn’t help. Fergus and Thomas refused to let me train at swords with them? Have a cup of tea. Runt mabari pup didn’t survive? Cup of tea. Upset about being betrothed for political reasons? Tea. Distraught that the betrothal negotiations were broken off? Tea!” She smiled at the memory. “She was right, though. Nothing ever looked quite as bad after tea and a chat with mother. Even after she was gone, it became something of a ritual for me.” 

Alexia filled the mugs, inhaling the fragrant steam and the calm that came with it. “Anything in it? Sugar, honey, cream? Tea to order, assuming you tell me where to find whatever you want.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Autumn said quickly. “Having Alexia Cousland, Queen and Hero of Ferelden as a guest is strange enough. But you certainly shouldn’t be serving me tea!”

“Relax, please. I’m not anyone special, not really. I know you’ve heard the stories. So have I. Maker, am I glad I never met Varric back then! I can’t imagine what people would think. But it doesn’t matter. I was in the right place and did what needed to be done. That’s all.”

“You’re the first person to survive killing an Archdemon!”

Alexia felt her throat clench shut in response to Autumn’s innocent enthusiasm, and she set the teapot down quickly as her hand began to tremble. Fighting tears, she reached for Alistair’s ring, gripping it so hard the metal bit into her palm. The pain helped to ground her, gave her something concrete to focus on. “The way I managed that… was nothing to be proud of.” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Autumn sighed. “I should know better. People think killing an Arishok is terribly heroic, too, but it’s not something I want to dwell on.” 

Alexia composed herself and gave Autumn what she knew was a shaky smile, grateful to be given a graceful explanation for her over-reaction. “Let’s focus on the present for a bit.” Picking up the mugs again, she extended one towards Autumn. “Cup of tea?”

 

They settled in next to the hearth, sipping tea and staring into the flames, not speaking. The warmth of the tea curling in her belly combined with the heat of the fire, and Alexia felt herself relax. She could sense Autumn doing the same beside her, and she let the silence extend until it became comfortable. Eventually, when she judged the moment was right, she asked gently, “How are you?”

Autumn thought for a moment before answering, recognizing the question for more than a meaningless pleasantry. “I’d be lying if I said I was all right. But I think I will be. I was so angry at Anders last night.”

“But you aren’t this morning?”

“Not this morning.” Autumn’s lips quirked into a mirthless smile. “I think… it would be pretty hypocritical of me to stay angry.” 

Alexia’s confusion must have been evident because Autumn continued. “Did you know that Bethany was a Warden because of me?” 

Alexia frowned, not seeing how that fit either the current conversation or Anders’s story about an emergency Joining in the Deep Roads. 

“It’s true. It was my fault. She hated it at first, and she hated me for choosing it for her. But I never regretted it.”

Choosing to follow Autumn’s train of thought, Alexia accepted the subject change. “I don’t see how you had any other option. Anders said she’d been tainted.” 

“That’s right. She would have died if it weren’t for the Wardens. I think, in those early days, she wished she had died. But even then, I wasn’t sorry for what I did. And I was right, too. She adjusted, she lived a good life, and she made a difference in the world. So I’m still not sorry.

“I did the same thing to Anders. He wanted to die, too, after what he did. He tried to convince me more than once that the world would be better off without him. But I wouldn’t let him die.” She paused thoughtfully, biting at her lower lip. “I probably should have. He was guilty. Everyone wanted me to kill him. _He_ wanted me to kill him. But can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.” Alexia smiled sadly. “Who do I have to tell?” 

“What I did, refusing to kill him, forcing him to live–I did it because I was selfish. I couldn’t see how I was going to go on in a world that didn’t have him in it. And I’m glad I did that, too, because we were happy, and he got to work to build his visions–create a new system and not just tear down the old one. But that’s not why I did it. I did it for myself.

“He asks me to forgive him for what he did to me, for forcing me to live when I didn’t want to go on,” she said with a bitter smile. “But I did the same thing to him – and to Bethany. After everything I’ve done, I don’t think there’s anything to forgive.”

“I don’t know that you did anything wrong. You chose to save the life of the person you loved, even though it meant convincing him to do something he was opposed to. I… think I would do the same.” Alexia was surprised to have Morrigan’s dark, knowing eyes flicker through her mind; she hadn’t thought about the witch in years. _I **did** do the same,_ she amended silently. 

They sat quietly for a few moments after that, each lost in thoughts of her own past. Alexia sipped at her tea, savoring the lingering warmth, and decided to ask the big question since Autumn had broached the subject, however indirectly. “You spared him after the Chantry explosion when even he thought he might deserve to die. Does that mean you think what he did was right?”

Autumn was silent long enough that Alexia began to wonder if she’d crossed a boundary. It wasn’t the sort of thing one usually discussed with a virtual stranger. But when the answer finally came, it was calm and reasoned. “It’s not what I would have done. But Anders did it, and there’s nothing to be done about that. It fell to me to make it mean something, so that’s what I did.” Autumn shook her head quickly and corrected herself. “What I do.”

Alexia was impressed with the dedication, the way Autumn was recommitting herself to a cause in Anders’s memory. It made her keenly aware of her current lack of purpose. She had no idea what she would do when she left this cozy fireside. 

Pushing that concern aside, she focused on her current goal: helping Autumn to cope with and adjust to Anders’s loss. Judging that Autumn needed a bit of time to work through her thoughts, Alexia stood and quietly went to the kitchen to refill her tea. Returning with a steaming mug, she settled back by the fire and waited. When she judged that Autumn was ready to move on from her moment of reflection, she spoke again. "It was amazing how much he loved you. You made him a different person."

Autumn looked up, startled. "He said that?" 

Alexia shook her head with a small smile. "No, he wouldn’t say that, not to me. But he didn't have to. Every time he talked about you, even thought about you, it transformed him. I'd never seen him smile openly before, just that guarded, amused smirk he hid behind. The joy you brought him was enough to light up the Deep Roads." She paused, struggling to reconcile this softness with her lingering resentment. "Not that I was especially paying attention to him, but we were down there for months, and it's hard not to get to know someone that well, even if you're angry with him." 

Autumn laughed fondly. “I don’t know if I really have to ask this – Anders is so good at making people angry – but what did he do?”

“He saved my life.” Autumn looked perplexed, and Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle when she considered what she’d said. 

“How dare he?” Autumn offered. 

“I know, it sounds ridiculous when I put it like that.” Alexia paused, steeling herself to explain. Her hand closed around the ring at her throat, drawing strength from it. “I went into the Deep Roads on Calling, just not _my_ Calling. That didn’t matter to me; he was my husband, and I wanted to go with him. We survived Ostagar together, stopped the Blight together, ruled Ferelden for three decades together, and we’d planned to die together when the time came. When he realized I wasn’t being Called, he changed the plan. I watched him die and thought I was joining him. Then I woke up to Anders healing me. He took away my choice.” 

"Oh, that son of a bitch!" Alexia was caught off guard by Autumn’s vehemence and the spontaneous quick hug that accompanied it. She wondered if that sort of casual intimacy came from growing up with a sister. “I’m so sorry Anders did that to you,” Autumn added. “Although I can’t say I’m surprised. It sounds just like him, always making other people’s decisions for them.” 

“It wasn’t exactly his idea. He told me Alistair asked him to.” She was surprised at the way her voice broke and her vision blurred. She thought this was the first time she’d spoken his name aloud, and it made his absence more real. But she was here to help Autumn find closure, not to burden the woman with her own problems. Embarrassed, she turned her face away to hide her tears as she continued. 

“He’d found out Anders left you behind to keep you safe. So he made Anders promise, on his love for you, that he wouldn’t let me die if I didn’t have to.” Alexia paused, wiping at her cheeks. Autumn reached a comforting hand towards her, but she turned away. She was here to help Autumn, not to indulge in her own grief. Forcing down the tears, she continued in a voice that was thicker than she would have liked. “I couldn’t be mad at Alistair, so Anders had to do.”

Autumn smiled tentatively at Alexia’s attempt to lighten the mood. “I wish _I_ had someone else to be angry with. I guess I’m going to have to get by without the anger.”

“We could trade,” Alexia suggested with a faint grin. “You could… could blame Alistair, if that would help.” She forced herself to use his name, hoping it would get easier with time. “It’s not entirely unreasonable. He’s the one responsible for Anders being a Grey Warden.”

“I thought you conscripted Anders.” Autumn’s brow wrinkled in a slight frown. 

“At his suggestion.” Alexia smiled at the memory. “He always enjoyed thwarting over-zealous templars, and I think he felt sorry for Anders. So it’s sort of his fault, if you want a proxy to be angry with.”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t think I could. I met him once, you know.”

Alexia couldn’t help but laugh. “And that keeps you from being mad at him? I wish that worked for the Ferelden nobility! It would have made ruling so much simpler.” Autumn’s returning smile brought a twinkle to her grey eyes that Alexia suspected had been missing for too long. Struck by a sudden closeness, she resisted the urge to retreat into her pain. 

“He mentioned meeting you,” Alexia continued, remembering Alistair’s frustration with that largely failed diplomatic trip. “I think you impressed him. He said you were quite possibly the only sane person left in Kirkwall.”

Autumn gave a wry grin at that candid assessment of her one-time home. “I liked him too,” she offered. “He struck me as a kind, honorable man and a just king.” 

Alexia was surprised to discover herself tearing up at such simple words. “He was,” she said with a smile. “Also gentle, funny, sweet, and passionate about things he thought mattered. I miss him.” 

Instead of looking away and burrowing into her grief, Alexia forced herself to meet Autumn’s gaze, to connect with the other woman. If there was anyone who would understand, sympathize, and not judge her, it was Autumn; there was no reason to reject this opportunity. By asking her to come here, Anders had given them both a chance for closure, for healing. She wondered if he had anticipated that or if it was a fortunate coincidence. Either way, sitting here in Anders’s home talking to his widow, sharing their grief and hopes, it was hard to hold onto her resentment. 

 

With the emotional walls starting to come down, Alexia and Autumn began talking more freely, sharing stories from their pasts. It quickly became evident to Alexia that they had more in common than their recent bereavements. They shared a warm grin when Alexia anticipated Autumn’s next words and finished her sentence for her. 

Autumn chuckled and shook her head. “We’re far too alike. It sounds like I’m lucky you were already married when you met Anders.”

Alexia erupted into startled laughter, unable to control her mirth at the idea that she would have been romantically interested in Anders. Even if she had been unmarried when she took the posting at Vigil’s Keep, it wouldn’t have been _Anders_ who caught her attention. The laugh choked off in her throat at the surge of guilt that accompanied that thought, and she shoved aside both the mirth and guilt, turning to meet Autumn’s bemused expression. 

“I’m sorry. That was unkind.” She took a breath to compose herself and gather her scattered thoughts. “I never saw Anders that way. To be completely honest, I found him… frustrating.” At Autumn’s confused frown, she elaborated. “He was continually haranguing the rest of us about mage freedom, but he never _did_ anything about it. To hear him talk, every time he broke out of the tower, he just engaged in hedonism and debauchery until the templars caught up and took him back. If he was clever enough to get out, it seemed like he ought to have a better plan for what to do next.” 

Alexia smiled with wistful nostalgia. “You have to understand, when I met Anders, I had just stopped a Blight and put kings on the thrones of two nations. I’d been orphaned, conscripted, and forced to do a lot of growing up very quickly. As a result, I had little patience for anyone I saw as immature. Anders struck me as someone who was wasting his potential and his passion, and it frustrated me. I suspect he was a rather different person by the time you met him.” 

Autumn looked somewhat confused by this description, and when she responded, her tone was almost defensive. “The first time _I_ met Anders, he was healing a sick child in a free clinic he ran in the sewers of Kirkwall. He treated anyone who came to his door with a need, no questions asked. And he made no secret of being a mage, despite the oppressive templar regime. He was noble and driven and utterly selfless.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “To be honest, I was smitten on sight.”

Alexia blinked, trying to reconcile this image of Anders with the irrepressible joker she’d conscripted. “I suspected Anders had a lot of maturing to do, but I never imagined he’d do it so quickly.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe that was Justice’s influence on him.” 

Autumn quickly seized onto that idea. “What was he like, when you knew him? Justice, I mean.”

Alexia stared into the fire as if it were a portal to view the past, struggling to put the spirit into words. “Always so certain and definite, yet incredibly confused. He had ready answers for the big questions: purpose and meaning and ideals. But the things we take for granted in daily life, he’d never learned how those worked. He couldn’t understand why it made people uncomfortable to talk to a corpse. He couldn’t understand why there might be multiple facets to what he saw as simple questions of crime and punishment. He couldn’t understand why Anders kept a cat.” She chuckled, remembering the spirit’s probing questions about Pounce’s indenture and need for freedom. “Maybe they were good for each other, in a way. Anders learned to think beyond himself, and I’d like to think Justice learned how to laugh.” 

When she turned back from the fire, Autumn was regarding her with a serious, intrigued look. “It sounds like you’re describing the two halves of my husband’s personality. It’s so weird to think that you knew them in two different bodies.” 

“It’s strange to me to think of them as one person.” Alexia smiled softly. “I’m just glad to know you helped both of them to be happy.” 

 

The conversation lapsed again after that, both of them reflecting on new insights. Alexia found her thoughts drifting to the core of resentment that she suspected Autumn was concealing, maybe even from herself. It had taken Alexia months to begin to forgive Alistair for making her go on, and that was with Anders to blame. She couldn’t believe that Autumn had reconciled herself to Anders’s abandonment of her so quickly, even if she knew intellectually that his intentions had been good. 

"It's not better, you know," she said into the silence. "You're mad at him for not letting you come along. It's not better to be there, to watch him start to lose himself, withdraw, fall apart, gradually become less and less the man you love." 

Autumn frowned in disbelief. "You think it was better to stay here? To wait and wonder and not know if he's dead or alive as a monster? To be haunted with possibilities and have no way to get answers?"

Alexia shook her head calmly, not surprised by Autumn’s sudden outburst. "It's not better. Either way. Just different."

There was a pause before Autumn spoke next, and she sounded thoughtful when she did. “You know, I did watch him start to lose himself and fall apart once before. There may be something to what you say.” 

“I’m not saying I want to trade places with you, just that my way wasn’t necessarily better.”

Autumn startled her by reaching over to take her hand in sympathy. Stifling an initial impulse to recoil from the contact, Alexia gripped back, surprised at how much comfort the simple gesture brought her. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes longer. Alexia remembered the tension and worry she’d sensed the previous evening and decided to address the unspoken fear she thought Autumn was still harboring. “He’s not wandering the Deep Roads as a ghoul.” 

Autumn’s head turned quickly, and she stared at Alexia with wide eyes. 

“It seemed like you were worried about that, so you should know it won’t happen. Anders and Nate would never leave something so important unfinished.” Alexia tried to keep her voice calm, reassuring. 

“But what if… I mean, how can they…” Autumn’s hesitance confirmed Alexia’s suspicions that this was the fear that had most haunted her since Anders had left. 

“There are ways to make certain. It helps to be a mage, of course. Bethany…” Alexia stopped herself. “Do you want to hear about it, or would you rather not know?”

“Please. It’s worse to imagine.” 

“She collapsed an entire cavern on herself and a whole horde of darkspawn. We’d gotten out of our depth, and none of us would have made it out otherwise. Nothing survived that explosion. Anders said it was the best elemental magic he’d ever seen. Your sister was an amazing Warden. I wish I’d gotten to know her better.” 

“So do I.” Autumn’s smile was both proud and wistful. 

“Anders was smart. He’d do something similar to make sure.” Alexia paused before saying firmly, “They’re dead by now, both of them.” 

“Both of them… Nate. Nathaniel Howe?”

Alexia nodded. 

“I don’t know much about him. Not as much as I should, given the circumstances. Who is he?” 

“Nate was a friend.” She sighed, struggling with everything underlying that sentence. “That seems woefully insufficient, but it’s very true. Nate and I played as children. Nate was the broken betrothal I cried to my mother about as a girl. He served under my command at Vigil’s Keep. I deputized him when I left, and he spent over twenty-five years as Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I relied on him completely to handle things with the Wardens, and he never let me down. Nate was my friend, one of the best I could have ever wanted.” She paused, contemplating. “I don’t think I ever really appreciated that.” 

Turning her attention back to Autumn, she continued. “Nate’s the reason I’m here. Not here delivering Anders’s letter, obviously; that was because Anders asked. But ‘here’ not in the Deep Roads. Nate’s last request was not to have to watch me die. He was my friend. How could I say no?”

 

True to his word, Varric knocked on the door and let himself in around noon, by which point Autumn and Alexia were on their third pot of tea and entirely at ease with each other. Alexia was beginning to suspect this was what it would feel like to have a sister. 

“You ladies look cozy,” Varric remarked. He smiled at Autumn, a soft expression that managed to be compassionate without a trace of pity. “I’ve talked to who needs talking to and arranged you a few days off. No arguing, Hawke! Things can survive a few days without you. Even Kirkwall didn’t fall apart in two days, and it was never as stable as what you’ve built here.” 

Autumn had started to object, but he managed to effectively quell her protest before it was fully formed. Seeing her acquiesce and relax, he nodded with satisfaction and settled into a chair situated near the fire. “Have you even moved since I left, Queenie?”

“I made tea.” Alexia held up her mug. “There’s probably some left, if you’d like.” 

“Tea? Have you ever heard of a dwarf drinking _tea_?” Varric stared at her with one of the best expressions of shock and scorn she’d ever seen, and she felt her lips curve into a tiny smile. 

“Don’t get too comfortable there,” Autumn said with a grin. “As I’m sure you noticed last night, there’s not much food in the house. Since Alexia made dinner last night, it’s your turn to find us lunch.” 

“Slavedriver, Hawke,” Varric grumbled, but he dragged himself out of the chair and headed back out the front door. 

Sensing that this brief interlude was likely to be her last window to talk to Autumn one-on-one, Alexia decided it would have to be time for the final, all-important question. “So after those few days, once Varric and I have gone, what will you do now?”

Autumn’s faint smile reassured Alexia as much any words she could have said. She was thinking of the future with hope; Alexia envied her. 

“I’ve got the mage cause to think about,” Autumn said. “I’ve devoted nearly half my life to it, but there’s still so much to be done. I can’t think of a better way to make sure Anders’s influence lives on.” She paused for a moment, clearly struggling with something, before blurting out, “We could use someone like you.” 

Startled, Alexia shook her head. “Thank you, but no. It’s not my fight.”

“Are you sure? It’s not just what people think of, fighting templars and leading rebellions.” Autumn’s eyes lit up, and her voice filled with passion and determination as she continued. “The old system is gone, and we’ve had to build something new in its place. We spent the past two decades designing a new society, one that proves that mages can live in freedom and still be safe and responsible. It takes mages and non-mages working together to make it work.”

Alexia said nothing, letting Autumn continue as she tried to remember when the last time was that she had felt that kind of passion for anything. 

“The hardest part is the children. So many mage children were essentially orphaned when the war started. And when parents discover that their child is a mage, they have nowhere to turn. Except for us.” The pride in her voice was clear, and Alexia couldn’t help but be moved by it. “We’re their only support network. We don’t just set up mentorships. There’s a whole system of foster parenting in place for the children who don’t have anyone at all. I try to make it so that no child will have to be alone or unloved because of their magic.” 

Apparently mistaking Alexia’s silent reflection for indifference or boredom, Autumn cut herself off with an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I guess you could say I feel very strongly about this.” 

“It shows,” Alexia said warmly. “You’re a wonderful advocate for your cause. But my answer is the same.” She leaned forward and placed her hand over Autumn’s to reinforce her words. “Please don’t think that means I disapprove of what you’re doing or don’t believe it can work.” 

She paused, searching for words to express emotions she wasn’t comfortable sharing. “The children… If Alistair was still here, I… we…” Alexia swallowed around the lump in her throat, vision blurring at the idea of taking in foster children in place of the family they’d never been able to have. She thought that sort of life would have suited him far better than court ever had. “But without him… It’s not something I could do alone.” 

Autumn squeezed her hand but said nothing, giving her the time she needed to work through her unexpected wave of grief and loss. Alexia chose not to pull away, accepting the comfort of compassion freely offered. After a few moments, she dashed at her eyes with her free hand and offered Autumn a wan smile of thanks. 

“I wish you success, but I can’t stay to help you,” Alexia said, surprised at how confident and strong her voice sounded. “You’ve reminded me that there’s a cause I’ve devoted more than half of my life to, also. Normally a Warden’s obligation ends at Calling, but most of us don’t come back. Since I did, I still have a duty. ‘In peace, vigilance.’ My place is with the Wardens. There may not be a Blight, but the Deep Roads are always a threat, and I have a lot I could teach to new recruits, memory that shouldn’t be lost.” 

Autumn nodded, and her expression made Alexia wonder what the other woman was seeing in her. She thought it might be a glimpse of the person she used to be, the woman who had pulled a kingdom back from the brink of civil war and stood her ground against an archdemon. Alexia had let her grief consume her for too long; it was time to find that woman again, to see what was left of her and discover what she could become. 

“I understand,” Autumn said. “The Wardens are your legacy for the man you love, just like mages are for me. Good luck. I know you have a lot to offer them, and recruits will be lucky to learn from you. Can I ask for one favor?”

“Of course,” Alexia responded without hesitation. 

“Keep in touch. You know where to find me. You’re nearly the only one, other than Varric.” Autumn hesitated before offering a smile that was hopeful and almost shy. “I want to hear how you’re doing, to know that I’m not the only one. I believe in what I’m doing, but it won’t be easy to do it alone now. I want to know there’s someone else struggling with the same things and doing what needs to be done even though it hurts sometimes.” 

Alexia blinked back tears at the unexpected, candid view of her future and the impulsive, unstinting trust and sense of kinship. Autumn was right: it _would_ be nice to not be totally alone. She offered Autumn a small smile, squeezing her hand as if drawing strength from the connection. “I’d like that.”


End file.
